Book One, The Light in the Dark
by morning sun
Summary: What do you do when everything is falling apart? How do you even begin to pick up the pieces of what used to be your life? How do you trust someone new, someone who will need your help more than anyone you've ever met. Can you save her? Can you love her?
1. Chapter One, Preface: The Beginning

_Everyone Deserves a Happy Ending; Book One, The light in the dark, a story for Raphael. _

**_Preface: The Beginning _**

xxx

The Phone rang. Once, twice, three times, before a perfectly manicured hand picked up the receiver. She raised the white phone to her contrasting ebony cheek. Her face was beautiful, but it was marred with a black eye swelled to almost closing. An authoritative voice spoke before she could even greet her caller.

"Is this Mrs. Penelope Fairchild?" Her brows furrowed, as no one usually called Penelope unless it was an acquaintance, and her eyes flickered to the packed bags by the door.

"Yes, this is she." Her voice was delicate, almost breathless. There was a regretful sigh on the other line.

"Mrs. Fairchild… I'm sorry to inform you of this, but your husband was killed today while apprehending a suspect in a bank robbery..." At this, the phone slipped from her hands, clattering loudly onto the floor. Her breath caught in her throat, and yet, with a light touch of her fingers to her inflamed eye, the tears never came.

xxx

Starbucks was crowded, loud, and full of chattering people. The sound of cappuccino's being made and the register chime with orders being placed would have distracted anyone. Yet Lucy Palmer was lost in her own world. She sat in a corner of the café, a lukewarm macchiato and discarded biscotti at the far end of her table. Music sheets were scattered around her and a symphony was being composed, copied from her mind to the paper. Soulful flutes told a sweet, whimsical story of love and fairytale. An obo and a lone violin weaved a tale of passion and desperate craving. Then a rapid succession of strings and horns would shatter the dream the flutes played with their own story of anger and aggression, stirring up a sea of hurt and pain in each meticulously placed note. Clarinets would gradually calm the violent assault the strings caused, letting the flutes, and a harp, and yes, a french horn continue to declare their love and passion to whom or what ever it may be that they were playing to. It was beautiful. And to hear it was to hear a soul in its desperate cry for true love. It was what her soul sounded like, what her heart yearned for. And it was what she had yet to _truly_ discover.

xxx

The handcuffs were cold against her wrists. They left an imprint on her skin, and caused her finger tips to become a light blue hue from lack of circulation. That was courtesy of an over enthusiastic police officer, obviously worried about her trying to break for it in the middle of a crowded court room. She had been found guilty. And now her fate would be decided. The jury re-entered the stands and the elected orator handed the verdict to the judge. Honorable Judge Watkins was rotund, bald, and wore glasses that were much too big for his beady eyes. He cleared his throat, his goblet quivering from side to side as he did so.

"Please stand," The bailiff announced. The courtroom did so, and went silent.

"Mrs. Isabelle Marie Harriston," the judge's glabrous head gleamed from the overhead lights as he bent his face forward to read the document of her guilty sentence.

"The court has previously found you guilty of two counts of murder in the first degree, and as is the brutality and outstanding violence of this… _slaughter,_ the jury has sentenced you to death by electrocution. You shall be incarcerated until a time is scheduled for your execution. It is so ordered, by the state in New York, and the city of Manhattan." The gavel hit with an echoing clatter. For a moment, Isabelle felt her world freeze. Her heart stopped, her face a wide eyed expression of disbelief. 

**_Death_.**

"No." She whispered hoarsely, the earth speeding back up to a normal rate, making her feel queasy and sick. Then she felt the young police officer take her arm and start to pull her towards the exit. She felt panic rise in her chest.

"No!" she yelled.

"No, wait! I'm not guilty." She struggled to detach herself from the officer and saw another rushing towards her.

"Please!" she screeched.

"Please believe me. I'm Innocent." The other cop had begun to help drag her from the court room. Isabelle was hysterical. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she screamed for mercy.

"No! No I'm innocent, I didn't kill anyone. _I didn't fucking kill anyone!_ Someone please help me. Let me go! Help!" She was kicking as the police officers lifted her off her feet by her elbows.

"Please, not death, not for something I didn't even do. I'm not Guilt-" And then she was carried out the doors, her voice silenced.

xxx

Everyone looked at her…

Theresa was beautiful. Her legs looked great in a skirt, her large breasts filled out a shirt nicely, and her curvy body and slightly angled face fit her perfectly. Her eyes were as big and brown as a doe's, and her lips full and heart shaped. Her nose was somewhat upturned, and her long thick hair the color of honey.

Everyone looked at her…

Her style was classic, hip, casual, and contemporary all rolled into one. She was quick-witted and intelligent, her humor clever, and her tongue sharp. Her personality was infectious, and when she smiled, showing her perfectly straight bleach white teeth, she lit up a room with the feeling of warmth and belonging.

Everyone looked at her…

She had gotten top grades in college and was now quickly becoming one of the top lawyers in the city. She was a great debater, a great litigator, and all around, a great person. And while everyone looked at her, _he_ watched and _he_ waited. She never saw him, but he was there. Outside her bedroom window, or by himself in the restaurant where she would have lunch with her colleagues. Inside her home while she took a shower, just breathing in the sent of her as steam billowed out of the cracked door and onto his lusting face. He watched and he waited. Waited for his chance, waited for the right time to make his move. And it would be soon… _very soon_.

xxx

It was raining at the cemetery. The tarp owning was barely protecting the family and friends that surrounded the casket. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." The minister spoke in desolate tones. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. Slowly, the ivory box was lowered into the ground and the mourners began to gradually scatter back to their cars. Tears were on some of their faces, others seemed like they didn't really care, hadn't really known her well enough. But away from the lamenting and their woeful eyes, stood four shadowed figures, and all four had a deep sadness in their hearts for the girl lost. They stood and watched as all the grieving departed and the wet soil was covered over the casket. The tarp was taken down, and the caretakers, soaked to the bone, quickly left in search of a dryer space. One of the figures broke away from the others. He walked to the grave and dropped to his knees in front of the headstone. Water ran down his face as he lowered the hood of his jacket. Reaching out, he ran his fingers over the name on the headstone.

_"Jaden Nicollet Chambers, May you forever rest in peace, knowing you were loved. 1983-2007." _

A marble cherub lay over the tombstone, a fat marble tear caught on its cheek. A hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Come on Mikey, let's go." The voice was gentle and sad, laced with an emotion that was improperly placed. Tears blended with the rain streaming over Michelangelo's face as he stood and took one long last look at the grave.

"I love you." He whispered, and then he turned and left, his brothers following behind.

**_xxx _**


	2. Chapter Two, Problems and Solutions

_**The Light in the Dark; Chapter Two: Problems & Solutions**_

xxx

Raphael opened his eyes. He had been in a deep sleep, dreaming about a girl who had looked a lot like Jessica Alba. She had just gotten around to showing him what she could do with a cucumber and some whipped cream, and he had awakened. Raphael scowled. There had been a noise, something that had jerked him out of slumber. There it was again. It was a… _whimper. _

_Mikey._

Raph kicked the covers off of him and exited his room. As he stepped out onto the platform and quietly slid his door shut, he noticed Leonardo poking his head out of his own end compartment room.

"I've got it." Raphael called out in a whisper.

"Thanks." Leo called back, and stuck his head back into his own domain. Raphael tiptoed to the train partition next to him, slid open the door, and stepped inside. Michelangelo was lying in his bed, the covers kicked off of him and his body curled into a fetal position. As Raphael watched him, he saw him kick as if a dog might in his sleep, and whimper again. If he kept this up he would wake up Splinter, who needed all the rest he could get.

Raph grimaced, then went to the edge of Mike's bed and knelt down.

"Mikey." Raphael said firmly, placing a hand over his brother's forehead. Mike's head tossed a little but he did not awaken.

"Michelangelo." He said it a bit louder this time, and shook Mike's shoulder lightly. Mike jerked awake, sitting up stalk straight in his bed, as if he had just been awakened from a bad dream. He probably _had _just been awakened from a bad dream.

"Jade!" He called out.

Raphael felt his heart drop in his chest. It had been five months since the funeral, and there was still no end in sight for Mikey's pain.

"Mike, it's me." Raph said, in the most soothing voice he could muster, it was, after all, three o'clock in the morning, and he had been having a _very_ good dream.

It took Mike a moment to gather his bearings before he looked down at Raphael, who was still crouching at the side of his bed. He blushed, a slight tinge of barely noticeable red in his green cheeks.

"I woke you up… huh?" It was more of a statement than a question. Raphael nodded.

Michelangelo sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. His voice had been croaky and his eyes were red rimmed, as if he may have been crying in his slumber.

"I'm sorry man." He whispered.

Raphael shook his head, "its ok bro, your fine. I just wanted to check on you."

Mike didn't seem to be able to meet Raphael's gaze. He spoke softly, and Raph had to strain to hear.

"I dreamed she was alive, and that we were out in Central Park, walking, talking, and it had been _so_ nice…" He paused, taking a deep breath.

"And then _he_ showed up… and he had a knife… and there was nothing I could do. He just started cutting into her. And she was screaming and begging me to help her… and I just stood there. I just watched her die…" His voice faded.

Raphael waited a moment before he spoke.

"Mike, that's not what happened, it was just a dream. Jade… she went quick, and you certainly didn't just stand there when you found her."

Michelangelo flinched at hearing this; Raphael had always been straight forward.

"I know." He whispered. He lay down, pulling the covers up around him. Raphael stood and looked over his brother.

"It'll be ok Mike. Do you need anything?" Michelangelo shook his head no, "I'm fine. I won't make anymore noise Raph, promise." Raphael felt his heart sink even lower, down to his belly now.

"Don't worry about it Mikey, just try to get some sleep."

Mike nodded, and Raph left, closing the door quietly behind him.

_'__When'_ he thought to himself as he climbed back into his own bed _'When will this end, __**when**__ will Mikey be ok?'_ The answer, he knew, was one that was disheartening. '_Not anytime soon._'

_**xxx**_

The sky was a clear baby blue… well, as clear as it got with the polluted Manhattan air. Amy pedaled her bike faster as she went down the incline of a hill. The breeze felt wonderful against her skin, which was glistening with perspiration. Her tires skidded as she turned a sharp right into an abandoned alleyway. It was narrow and between two brick three story buildings, one a very run down pawn shop and the other serving as an apartment building, fully equipped with broken windows and gang graffiti. She braked, leaned the bike against the pawn shop, and removed her helmet. She adjusted the backpack and the duffel bag on her shoulders and bent down to the manhole, which had already been pushed open just a bit so it would be easier for her to pull open. She smiled at that considerate action, _Leo_.

As she lowered herself down into the sewers, closing the manhole above her, she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the intense stench.

"Disgusting," She mumbled, entering her feet into the ankle deep mixture of water and waste.

"Geez Amy" Came a voice from behind her, "you'd think after two years you'd be used to the cesspit smell." It was Donatello.

She turned and smiled at him, "This place _is_ disgusting Donny, and you know it."

He gave her an all too knowing look, then took the backpack, which was covered with activist buttons saying things like '_if churches want to vote they should pay taxes_,' and, '_not my president_,' along with the bulky duffel bag that she had awkwardly strapped across her back, and let it hang from his arm.

"Very considerate," She said it in a tone that clearly conveyed that she thought he had ulterior motives.

"You know I need to protect our investment." He replied.

Amy smirked, "Just as I thought."

He looked her over, up and down, before he said, "You've cut your hair."

Amy smiled. She had, in fact, cut her long, black, waist length locks to a short spiky do that was above her ears. She had gone on to have the tips dyed red.

"It was to show off my new tattoo." She stated, turning her curvaceous body away from him so he could see the black writing that went across the back of her neck, just under her hairline. It read: **Anarchist**.

Donatello mouthed the word as he read it, then broke into a wide toothy smile.

"Awesome."

She smiled back at him, "I thought you'd like it."

They talked and bantered companionably the two and a half blocks it took to trudge to the deserted subway that the turtles called home. As they turned a sharp left, Amy mused over the fact that she even remembered that the entrance was here. A cement wall gave the illusion that there was no way a deserted subway, over a full block of space, could be behind it. Donatello had admitted to her, very modestly, that he and his brothers had spent almost a month when they had first moved in building the secret entrance. He pulled a lever that was cleverly designed to look like a water pipe, and the brick slid open to reveal the turtle's home.

As they entered the completely renovated subway, Amy was greeted with the sweet smells of turtle sweat and old pizza. Well, maybe they weren't sweet smells, but anything was better than the sewer stench. Michelangelo and Leonardo were to the right of the room, sitting on the couch watching what looked like Mtv cribs, and Raphael was to the left, sitting on a scratched and dented kitchen table eating a peanut butter and pickle sandwich.

"That's gross Raph." Amy commented on the sandwich.

Raphael, who currently had his mouth full, gave her the up yours signal with his two hands.

Amy laughed, "Ah but I can give you the middle finger… because I have a middle finger." She gave a bark of laughter and proceeded to give him the bird.

"Bitch," Raph mumbled rolling his eyes and returning to stuffing his face.

"Where's the rat?" Amy asked.

Leo looked over, "He's sleeping… you bring the stuff?"

Amy raised an eyebrow, "Don't I always?"

Donatello threw her the duffel and she followed him to the worn couch, unzipping it as she walked.

The contents she began extracting from the bag were worth a small fortune if sold on the streets; she however, was practically giving them away at a third of the price. The things she did for friends. It was medical supplies, stolen from the hospital she worked at. As a registered nurse she could definitely be looking at some jail time if she was ever caught. She held up an IV bag and waved it a bit erratically and she spoke.

"If _any _of you," She stated in a harsh tone,"_ever_ cause me to get caught, I expect you to be breaking me out of prison… a lot of this stuff is experimental. And besides that, I already have a record. This would _not _look good. I have codeine, penicillin, amoxicillin, syringes, _quinapril_… you said Splinter had high blood pressure, oxycodone, some stimulants, some tranquilizers… some aspirin." She was bent down on her heels rummaging through the bag and naming off the product as she came across them.

"A lot of samples we just got for new medications. Some bandages, a suture kit, salve, rubbing alcohol and peroxide… not that you'll need it, but a _medical dictionary_." The last was said in sarcasm.

There was a long pause, and then,

"… Did you cut your hair?" Leonardo was squinting at her.

Donatello reached out to grab the bag from a smirking Amy, who snatched it away from him before he got the chance.

"No product until I get the pay!"

Donatello rolled his eyes, "Since when have we ever not paid you?"

Amy shrugged, "It's the principal, since I'm a 'dealer', how would it look if I didn't demand pay from a client."

There was a pause, in which Don looked at her as if she were from a different planet.

"Who's gonna talk to us… we're turtles Amy, no one even knows we exist. And you don't even 'deal' to anyone but us."

Amy faltered at this, true as it was, but seemed to recover quickly, "To keep in practice then… come on, shell it out."

Donatello heaved a sigh. "The things I do for family," he mumbled pulling out a few bills from a pouch on his belt.

The reluctance on Donatello's face was apparent as they exchanged products, Donny seizing the duffel bag, and Amy practically ripping the cash out of his hands in her haste to be compensated for her trouble.

Raphael watched the deal in silence at the other end of the room. This was a _bad_ idea. He had never been on board with this harebrained design, but after they had tried it, and it had been somewhat successful, there was nothing he could say. Splinter was better than he had been before, although it wasn't all that much of an improvement. Unfortunately, he had to agree with Leo, anything that even helped their father a fraction of what his condition had been before, was good enough for him. The problem was that Amy was his best friend, next to his brothers and Casey, and he was worried about her. This job meant a lot to her, and they were jeopardizing her future.

He was also still stressing about Michelangelo. His brother, who they all thought of as 'the baby', was looking to be in very bad shape. The funeral for Jaden had been over five months ago, and he was still outwardly grieving for her everyday. Whenever any of them would try to comfort Mikey, he would become very quiet and close down, or he would get angry, and yell that they had no idea what he was going through, which was true enough, but it made Raphael feel helpless. He hated seeing his brother like this, and he had a suspicious feeling that there was more to the hurt and anger that Michelangelo was feeling. Something else was upsetting him, but he couldn't tell if it had anything to do with Jade's death, or if it was something completely different.

Raph was torn from his thoughts when Amy pulled up a chair and sat across the table from him. She was really pretty. Her new hair cut truly suit her, and the new tattoo he had seen when she'd had her back to him was just like her. She had various other body art, including a colorful portrayal of Lucifer's banishment from hell going down her left shoulder and cutting off at her wrist, and a large, blue and red Chinese dragon covering her whole back. Plus, she had a proclamation that she was a "_Daughter of Lilith_" scrawled in black ink in an arch over her belly button. She also had piercing's all the way up both her ears, in her navel, a stud in her nose, and a confidential admission to both her nipples and her "who-hah," as she liked to call it (Raphael had flinched when she'd told him this). Her face, unlike her personality, was soft. It was easy to underestimate her, but unwise, _very_ unwise.

Big green eyes stared at him, "What's up grumpy?"

He gave her a signature deadpan stare at her use of the nickname she'd come up with.

"Awww, Raphey poo, you know I love you. Don't be such a stick in the mud."

Raphael heaved a sigh, "You know I'm worried about this, about you Amy."

Amy shook her head seriously, "No, this is helping Splinter Raph, your not going to make me feel guilty for this."

Raphael felt his jaw clench, "You could get into a lot of trouble."

She raised an eyebrow, "This isn't only about me is it? I've been doing this for a year and you've never looked this upset. Spill it, what's up?"

Raphael sighed, "Mikey woke me up last night… look at him."

He gestured with a head nod towards Michelangelo, who was still slumped down on the couch, but was now proceeding to take several of the prescription strength aspirin Amy had brought with her.

"Well… at least he's kinda happy…"

Raphael raised an eye ridge at her.

Amy grimaced, "Okay, so he's not happy at all. You guys are his brothers, do an intervention."

Raphael heaved a sigh, "It's not like he's on drugs, and its not that easy… he won't listen to us, and when he's not shut in his room, he's horrible to be around. It doesn't help with you bringing him all these special medications."

He was visibly upset, and Amy's voice was soothing, "Don asked me for a more wide variety of medical supplies and prescriptions, he wants them so he can experiment on a new idea for a cure. He's really worried about Splinter Raph. And as for Mikey… well… there are worse things he could be doing than popping a few aspirin."

Raph looked at her for a beat before answering.

"Yeah, I know."

Amy was looking at him very seriously now.

"If you're really concerned, then you need to talk to him. Pull an intervention. That's what my parents did." Raph looked at her, a bit surprised and more than skeptical,

"Did it work?" Amy laughed,

"Hell no." She stopped laughing when she saw the annoyance and dismay written on Raph's face.

"Oh Raph, my Dad did it for all the wrong reasons. He was coming up for re-election and he didn't want people to know that a senator's daughter was a liberal, pot smoking, homo. I'm happy Raph, I don't need an intervention."

She was smiling, and looked for all the world as if she meant every word.

"Okay." He admitted,

"You're right, I'll talk to Leo and Don, and we'll help Mike."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "You sure you're gay? You don't want me to test you on the sexual expertise of a male turtle? We _are_ a different species; maybe you just hate _human_ men."

Amy laughed, "Anything with a penis is pretty repulsive, sorry."

Raphael shrugged, "can't blame me for tryin'."

Amy stayed for a few more hours, playing Scrabble with Donatello and having what looked like a heart to heart with Mikey. It had seemed like they had been talking very seriously about something while they were huddled together on the couch. Then, she had left, Leonardo escorting her back to the manhole that she had entered in. It had gotten quiet after Amy was gone; she was a definite light in all their darkness.

When Leonardo had returned, he'd gone straight to Splinter's room (reliving Donatello of his vigil), and watched over their father, speaking quietly to him, and finally returned to his brothers when the rat had fallen back into a deep sleep.

Raphael waited until Mikey had shut himself into his own room before pulling the other two turtles to the secluded dojo, and having a somber talk with them about Mike's depression. In the end, they all agreed that it was time for Michelangelo to face reality and come home to his family, to his brothers.

_**xxx**_

**_Authours Note: _**Ok, so I changed the layout and broke up the chapters.


	3. Chapter Three, Fate has a way

_**Chapter Three: Fate has a way…**_

**_xxx_**

Theresa walked briskly down the steps as she exited the courthouse, keeping her eyes averted from everyone she passed. She was ashamed. She'd lost her case. Oh she had gotten paid for her clients time of course, but he'd been sent to prison for twenty years, a much heftier sentence than she had promised.

_'Stupid judge_,' she thought savagely, picking up her speed so that her heels made a sharp clicking sound as they connected hard onto the sidewalk.

The look her client had given her… she had wanted to scream at the bench, wanted to cry for this poor mans loss of twenty years of his life. She felt her face flush in fury. The nerve, how dare he give her client the maximum sentence for his crime! He didn't deserve it. He wasn't guilty! Why did the justice system refuse to properly do its job? The real criminal was still out on the streets, and her client…

_'Oh, poor Romeo.'_ She thought, struck with an overwhelming sadness.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud honking. One of her firm's partners had pulled his baby blue '67 Ford Mustang up to the curb, his name was Lawrence Shade. Lawrence was older, but still attractive. His sandy hair was graying at the temples, and his blue eyes had wrinkles starting to form around them.

"Get in." He told Theresa, in a kind voice. She opened the passenger's side door and maneuvered her body onto the white leather seats. She remained quiet as he pulled into traffic.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later." He told her, his voice gentle. Theresa expelled a large amount of breath,

"I know… but why now, why me." She couldn't help that her voice had taken on a whining quality.

Lawrence smiled, "Because, even the best can't win every time cupcake. You've got to let this one go; don't let it eat at you."

She sighed noncommittally, "Yeah, you're probably right."

Lawrence laughed, a rich sound that reminded her of an aged wine, "I know I'm right cupcake. I've been a lawyer thirty years; I've learned a thing or two."

He pulled into their law offices, parking the car towards the back, obviously trying to prevent it from getting scratched. He cut off the engine and turned slightly in his seat to look at her,

"You should take the rest of the day off. A first loss is hard for all lawyers."

She smiled at him, the first real smile since court had adjourned.

"I will, I just need to type up some paperwork." Lawrence nodded in ascension, obviously deeming the answer as passable. They exited the car and walked into the building, whose doors read;

_"The law offices of Shade, Shempski, Colden, and Hunt."_ She was the only female, which was fine with her on most days, until the testosterone levels became so high she would want to scream in unadulterated frustration.

She walked towards the back of the building and into her own private office, the name plate reading; _Theresa Colden_, in brass. She smiled at it before she sat down at her desk and began to type. Her client may have been sentenced to twenty years, but she would make sure that the justice system prevailed. Theresa Colden's hands would not be bloodied; she would see that an innocent man was freed from his shackles.

It was many hours later when Justin Hunt gave a light tap on her already open door.

"Jesus Reece, Shade said you left early, it's almost ten!" Her head jerked up in surprise, she had been absorbed in a Westlaw handbook and hadn't heard him until he had spoken. She marked her place and looked at him. He was handsome, tall and athletic, with wavy blonde hair and luscious hazel eyes. He was also a bit of an asshole, but it made him a better lawyer.

"I didn't realize it was this late." She said by way of answer. Justin gave a cocky smirk, his boyish dimples giving him the illusion of charm.

"I could take you home…" He said, and it was the way he said it, with that suggestive, arrogant smirk, and the conceited upturn of his lips made her immediately say,

"_No_." She realized how flat and harsh her voice had sounded and quickly softened her tone.

"I mean, no. I'm just going to walk home. I'm right down the road." He looked at her for a moment, as if he may protest, and then shrugged,

"Whatever." He turned and left, walking down the hall to his own office. Theresa rolled her eyes,

"Jackass," she muttered under her breath.

It was only a few minutes later that she heard the back door close and realized she was the last one left in the small building. She shuddered; it felt so _creepy_ being here alone. Theresa gathered her shoulder bag and quickly shoved some of the documents she'd been working on into it. She seized her purse, jacket and umbrella, but as she stepped outside, locking the door behind her, she saw that it was neither rainy nor cold. August was quickly ending, but summer weather was still prevailing. Usually her walks home were peaceful, a time to reflect of the days events.

Tonight, however, was oddly different. Today had not been a good one, and Justin had rattled her nerves. He was always so smug and cheeky. She found herself wondering if their was even a real person under all his handsome looks, or if the horns she imagined he had hidden under those unruly blonde locks were a true testament to his inner self. Her apartment was only two blocks away, but she walked briskly, finding the silence that engulfed her eerie and spooky.

"I watch too many scary movies." She said to herself, constantly looking over her shoulder, clutching a bottle of mace she had retrieved from her Coach bag.

She'd gone only half a block when she heard footsteps behind her. She felt her heart begin to pump a bit faster, and chided herself for being so jumpy. It was a populated area; people could walk on the same sidewalk as her. Still, she activated the mace bottle and peeked over her shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat. There was a man, she couldn't see his face, but he was walking only five or six feet behind her. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head. He was big, not fat, but muscular and tall. When he saw her look back at him, he picked up his pace. Theresa's heart beat faster, and she too began to move her feet quickly. Her mind was racing,

_'Oh God, this has to be all in my head… maybe I'm just overreacting.'_ She heard him, his footsteps echoing like drums in her head. _'Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. What do I do?'_ Her heart racing and her brain beginning to speed into overdrive, she ran.

Still, she was thinking that maybe she'd just imagined a scary, hulking man following her. That was until she saw that he too had started to run, and he was gaining on her. Adrenaline pumped into her veins furiously and her feet carried her faster. The heels were preventing her from running as swiftly she could, but the pain in her feet came secondary to the fear that was racing through her body. She began to yell, screaming at the top of her lungs and shrieking,

"Help!" She could hear him behind her, his tennis shoes a much easier match against her Gucci sling backs. Panic was building up in her like bile and her brain stopped functioning completely. And then she did something _very_ stupid. Her slow reacting common sense sent a signal to turn right, and she ran into a deserted alley.

Actually, when she had made the sharp turn into the alleyway that lead to the back entrance of her apartment building, she had been hoping to loose her pursuer long enough to lock herself into her second story dwelling. That, however, didn't end up working the way she had wanted it to. The dark alley was the perfect place for her pursuer to lose anyone who may be about to afford her with help. She had barley gotten five steps into the dark lane when she felt a jerk on her hair. The man had wrapped his fist around her golden tresses and pulled her hard into his chest. Theresa sucked in a breath to scream, but a hand reached up lightning fast to cover her mouth.

"Shut up" He hissed, in a frighteningly raspy, and vaguely familiar voice. His hand was crushing into her face, and she could taste the salt and grime on his palm. The hand that had been used to pull her to him untangled from her hair and reached around to cup her breast. Her eyes widened in shock before she began to struggle, panic coursing through her body as she kicked out. His hand released her breast and he gave her a quick jab to the ribs. She knew that she felt something crack, and she breathed in deeply through her nose as she lost her breath. Theresa felt his hand loosen, and through the pain took the opportunity to bite down hard, not releasing until she tasted blood. He let her go with a jerk, spitting profanity. She was able to get out one ear shattering scream, before he grabbed her by the neck, and began to choke her. She knew she was going to die.

_**xxx**_

Raphael walked slowly through the sewers, his thoughts unfocused. He was worried about Michelangelo. They had all set a day to confront their brother, Friday. That was less than two days away, it being Wednesday night. What would he say to his troubled sibling? How could he make him understand how worried they were about him? Raphael was not a turtle who was particularly useful when tackling sensitive issues, such as this. He supposed that Donnatello would be doing most of the talking, seeing as he was the most insightful of the four (some who knew them might say that Leo was the one with clear insight, but Raphael was loath to credit him with anything).

He unsheathed a sia and twirled it between his fingers absentmindedly. Donnatello had been quite reserved while they had been planning a form of strike on Mikey. As Raphael came to think of it, Donny hadn't really been saying much to Michelangelo at all. It was almost as if he'd been purposely avoiding his brother these last several months. He wondered what had made him think of that. He needed fresh air, a place to think and clear his head. As he came to the manhole, the same one Amy had entered and exited earlier that day, he heard something. It was… _screaming_. As fast a lightning he was up the ladder and out into the alley.

There was a woman, he registered at first glance, and she was in front of him just under a lamp post. She was being choked, held up off the ground so that her feet were in the air, swinging helplessly. Raphael moved forward, intending to end this quickly, but before he could reach her she had raised her hand and sprayed what looked like a canister of mace into the face of her assailant. He dropped her immediately, grabbing at his face and cursing profusely. She was choking and gasping for breath, clawing at the dirt and trying to rise to her feet. She raised her head in his direction, and he knew that she had seen him. The man kicked out and caught her in the ribs, causing a loud cracking noise that was the obvious breaking of bone, and her gaze broke. He had just grabbed her by the hair and began to pull her to her feet when Raphael sprang into action.

Before the attacker had time to react, Raphael had delivered a swift punch to the face. Unfortunately, the criminal had not let go of the woman's hair on impact, and she'd been slammed into the brick building head first. She slumped on the ground, and didn't move. Trying to keep down the raise of panic he felt for the woman's condition, he focused on what he assumed to be her mugger. It was easy, Raphael was a trained ninja, and this punk was just some back yard brawler. Before the criminal even had time to defend himself, Raphael had delivered a roundhouse to his face, and it was lights out. He had swayed, stumbled, and then crumpled onto the pavement.

It only took a moment for Raphael to decide what he needed to do. Normally, he would have tied the ill doer up and made an anonymous phone call to the police, or he would have slit his throat. The girl seemed to be in more need though. He scooped her into his arms easily, reasoning that the mugger would wake up and be off, never to bother this particular woman again. Raphael looked down at the victim he held in his arms. Although she had a large gash on her forehead and the makings of a busted lip, she was beautiful, and he felt a chill run down his spine as he guessed what her attacker had most likely been after. Beauty was not always a blessing.

She needed to go to a hospital, but that wasn't realistic. He would be seen if he went running through the streets, and it was to cumbersome to make the five mile trek to the ER under the cover of the sewers, especially while he carried her. No, the best thing was for Donny to have a look at her. He could feel a pulse, knowing that she'd hit the wall with considerable force caused him to check. It was a bit sporadic but in other words fine. What he was concerned about was the gash on her forehead, and the fact that she was unconscious. The lair was the closest, most practical place to go.

He kicked twice at the crumpled heap that was the attacker, and saw that he didn't move. Maybe his neck had snapped when Raphael's foot had connected with his face? The point was that he wasn't conscious to see a large mutated turtle recede into the sewer carrying an injured woman. Raphael reached down and awkwardly picked up the leather satchel and purse that had obviously been dropped by the lady while she was being assaulted. He abandoned the umbrella and coat he saw lying on the sidewalk a few feet away, he already had too much to carry. He hung the items over his shoulder, feeling like a big sissy carrying a purse, and made the unwieldy decent down into the sewers.

Although he ran to the subway, it took twice as long to get there. It was hard to maneuver when space got tight, and although she weighed hardly anything at all, she began to wear him down. He could see her shallow breathing and at one point tried to wake her up by yelling loudly in her ear. She'd not moved a muscle and it frightened him that she was not responding. He was relived when he finally reached the entrance. He awkwardly pulled down the lever, and the brick slab slid open. Donatello was immediately at the front door, his face a mask of livid anger and overwhelming concern. He had apparently seen them coming from the security camera discreetly located above some pipes over the entrance. It had been installed when a water line had busted and construction workers had been working right next to their _secret_ lair for almost a full week without anyone noticing.

"What the hell Raph?"

He'd almost screeched. Raphael groaned in exasperation.

"She's hurt okay; she was being attacked when I came out of the sewer." Raphael had side stepped his brother and moved over to the couch, lying the girl gently onto it.

"Hurry up Don! I need you to look at her. She got thrown into a wall and she's unconscious." Donatello, the humanitarian that he was, wasted no more time with senseless bickering. He sprang into action, kneeling next to the girl, checking her heartbeat at her neck and wrist's.

"Go get Leo, tell him what's going on and that I need his help." When Raphael just stood there, looking down at the pale face of the woman, Donatello shouted,

"Raph, get Leo! Now!"

Raphael shot out of the room, roused by his brother's sharp voice of urgency. He went to Leo's room first and when finding it empty, cursed himself, knowing that he should have first looked in the most obvious place, Splinter's room. Raphael slid the compartment door open as quietly as he could, peering in from the doorway.

"Leo," He said just above a whisper. Leonardo's head jerked up; apparently he had been falling asleep in the chair situated next to Splinter's bed.

"What?" He sounded annoyed.

"We need your help, there's a girl, she's hurt, Donny need's you." Raphael's voice was urgent but Leonardo seemed as if he may be weighing the needs of both his father and this obscure girl. He looked as if he were going to ask questions (which Raphael hated), when Splinter's croaky voice said,

"Go my son, I will be fine." Both brothers looked at the rat, Raphael's face grateful, and Leonardo's sad and dejected. Still, he was never one to disobey his sensei, and he rose and followed Raphael out of the room, closing the door behind him.

When they arrived the short distance to the couch, they saw that Michelangelo was already there, hovering around Donnatello like a nervous puppy. Donnatello, who was always one that needed space to work, did not look happy about this.

"Get him outta here." He said flatly. Michelangelo appeared concerned,

"He said she might be in a coma dudes!" He was pacing and looking very worried for this unknown stranger.

"Go get Donny some hot water and rags Mikey" Raphael delegated. As Michelangelo rushed to the kitchen Donny and Leo's eyes met.

"She won't respond and that bump on her forehead is as big as a baseball." Donnatello said somberly. Raphael felt his heart drop and pushed back the nausea. Donny looked at his reckless brother very seriously,

"What happened to her Raph? I need to know before I do anything." Raphael swallowed,

"All I saw was her gettin' choked, then he kicked her in the ribs and there was a real loud crack, and then, when I punched the guy, he threw he into a brick wall." It wasn't a very clear account, but it told his brother the extent of her injuries. Donnatello nodded,

"She probably has a concussion… could go into a coma if we don't hurry. Broken ribs are okay; choking's not good." He was muttering while he examined her.

"Alright, I need an IV Leo, set it up while I get the bag Amy brought, it's just in my room. Raph, look after her." And they were gone, just like that.

Raphael knelt down beside the couch, brushing the hair away from her face and watching her shallow breathing. He knew he would never forgive himself if anything that was wrong with her caused permanent effects; it was his fault she'd been thrown into a wall. He should have made sure that asshole had let go of her hair. Michelangelo rushed in carrying a large bucket of steaming water and two rags plus a towel. He'd only intended to get rid of his hyper active broth for a while by telling him to get hot water, but now that it was here Raphael figured he could put it to good use.

Their was no exchange of words as Mike set down the water and Raphael took a rag, dipping it into the hot liquid, before touching it to the wound on her forehead, cleaning it as best he could. Leo came back pulling the IV stand with him, followed by Donnatello who had the duffel bag and a bottle of antibacterial hand sanitizer. He pumped a liberal amount onto his palms and rubbed it in, before unzipping the bag and pulling out a syringe. Raphael backed away, standing on the outskirts of the activity with Michelangelo, who began to pace once more.

It took a very long time, Donnatello barked orders to Leo, who did not gripe and argue but listened and complied. Donny injected what Raphael thought might be some kind "uppers" into the girls arm, because a bit of color started to come back into her face. Leo connected her wrist to the IV and Donnatello added what looked like pain killers. Donny continuously checked her heart rate, and a look of regret crossed his face as he pulled out a small package from the duffel bag.

"What's that?" Raphael found himself asking, no longer able to contain his silence.

"Smelling salts" Donnatello replied, tearing it open and holding the packet under her nose. It only took a moment before she jerked, her hand reaching out and pushing the salts away. She looked as though she may wake up completely, but her eyes only squinted for a moment at Donny before she fell into a deep sleep.

They then tactfully removed her blue pinstriped skirt and her white blouse (now ridden with dirt), so that only a white silky camisole and matching bikini panties remained. Michelangelo looked down at his feet but Raphael couldn't help but stare. Donatello felt her ribs before saying

"One… no, two broken ribs. Nothing we can do for that though."

He then moved down to her legs, cleaning off her scraped knees and taking off her high heels. He checked her arms and hands, pouring straight alcohol over one of her palms (she jerked in her slumber), and lightly rubbed Neosporin into the gash she mush have acquired when thrown to the ground. He wrapped the hand in gauze and kept it in place with medical tape. When he seemed satisfied, he sent Michelangelo to get an old spare shirt. Mikey came back carrying a grey tee three times to big that said in black lettering across the chest, '_Lead, Follow, or get out of the way!_'

"Better than this"

Donny mumbled, indicating her panties, and (after removing the IV) slipped the shirt over her head, effectively hiding the skimpy under garments. Raph couldn't help but silently disagree that, while the tee still showed her silky legs, the reveling top and skimpy underwear had in his opinion, been much nicer.

"You can put her in my room." Raphael said to Donnatello. Donny raised an eye ridge before saying;

"It would actually be okay if we took her to the ER now Raph. She would make it if we carried her there through the sewers, and you can lay her on the sidewalk for Amy to "accidentally" find … I can call her right now and let her know what's going on. The doctors will be able to take care of her better than I can." Donnatello seemed to have sold Leonardo on this but both Michelangelo and Raphael immediately protested.

"You can't just lay her on a sidewalk! She's just been hurt!" Mikey looked appalled at the thought.

"Yeah," Raphael added, "and besides, she's already seen me, so there's no point taking her to a hospital just to keep us a secret."

Everyone looked at Raphael when he provided this new bit of information. Mikey's eyes widened, Leo's narrowed, and Donatello's eye ridges flew farther up his brow.

"When, exactly, were you planning on telling us this?" Leo asked, and his voice was a deadly calm. Raphael felt his anger rise,

"It was only for a second, just before she got slammed into a wall _Leo_. Why don't you get off my back. Besides, I'm sure she just got a nice view of Donny when she was wakin' up." Leonardo took a step forward but Donny intervened,

"Cut it out you two. Listen, problem solved, she only saw you for a second so when she wakes up she'll think it was just a dream. And she won't be on the sidewalk all night Mikey so calm down." Leonardo gave a half smile of what was supposed to look like sympathy for Michelangelo, but actually ended up being a smirk in Raph's direction. Raphael felt his jaw clench.

Without further conversation Raphael took the four steps to the couch, scooped up the girl, and began to carry her to his room. Michelangelo gave a loud "HA!" and began to follow the time bomb he called brother.

"Damnit Raph, just listen to reason! We already have enough people that know we exist. Every time we bring someone new down here we risk exposure." Donatello looked panicked and stressed. Leonardo was moving fast, and Raphael made a low growling noise as his older brother stepped in front of him and moved forward, seeming as though he may be ready to pry the woman out of Raphael's hands.

"Come closer and I'll rip your face off." Leonardo stopped short at the feral warning.

"Fine Raph, have it your way. I'll be out looking for a new home." Leo sounded defeated, but Michelangelo rolled his eyes at this melodramatic proclamation.

"She's not gonna tell anyone." Raph spoke quietly and seriously, like the calm before the storm. It was suddenly as though an explosion had gone off.

"How do you know Raph? You can't be sure can you, CAN YOU!" Leonardo was yelling, and his green face was turning a deep shade of red. It was at this point that Raphael decided to unclench his jaw.

"I'll kill her if she tells!" They were both shouting now, and Raphael felt the ever present anger rising up in him like a tsunami.

"Is that what you want to hear? Well there it is Leo. I'll fucking kill her if she opens her mouth." It had immediately become quiet again when Raphael had bellowed out 'kill.' He of course would never do such a thing, which his brothers already knew, but they we're questioning their assertion of him- it was hard not to believe someone who sounded so serious.

At the shocked quiet that followed, Raphael side stepped Leonardo (who had been blocking his way), and went to his room, slamming the sliding compartment door shut with his foot. He took a few deep calming breaths before he gently laid the woman on his unmade bed and covered her up tightly with the rumpled blankets.

"I wouldn't kill you, even it you told every soul on the planet." He said quietly, feeling ashamed than he would even say such a thing. His large hands ran over his face, rubbing his eyes, feeling frustrated and drained. Today had been one of the most exhausting days he'd experienced, and he'd been put through the ringer over the years. It was stress, the pressure of trying to deal with Splinters sickness, Michelangelo's depression, and now the worry of making sure this woman was protected and taken care of. He sat down in a chair at the foot of the mattress and just watched her, wondering if this really was the best idea. He heard more yelling outside of his room and resolved _not_ to go and see what was going on.

Fifteen minutes later Michelangelo slid open his door and came in, carrying the duffel bag and the girl's purse and leather case.

"What was that all about?" Raphael asked Mikey, seeing his brother's grim look.

"Their upset that I agree with you. They didn't want to give me that bag, so it got kinda' heated for a second. Leo may have a black eye tomorrow." Raphael's eyes widened and he sat stalk straight in the chair,

"You hit him!" He couldn't believe it, Mikey never fought physically with his brothers; he was to gentle and sensitive. Leonardo had probably been too shocked to react. Michelangelo shrugged,

"They were acting nuts dude. You don't leave someone… a _girl_, that's almost been killed on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. Leo just… he didn't get it." Mikey looked sad, and Raphael thought he may understand why his brother was so worried about this woman. Jade had been hurt, she'd just died before he could help her.

"Leo will get over it man, sit down."

Mike sat, handed the purse to Raphael, and opened to designer shoulder bag for himself.

"This will tell us more about her." Michelangelo said, pulling out some manila folders and flipping through them. Raphael hesitated for only a moment before unzipping her hand bag. He pulled out a matching wallet and opened it. Her face stared at him from the picture on her license.

"Theresa." He tried out the name on his tongue, and the woman actually stirred. Michelangelo looked up questioningly.

"Her name is Theresa, Theresa L. Colden." Raphael supplied, and then, after a closer examination of the license said,

"And she lives in the apartment building I found her being attacked in front of." He closed the wallet and stuffed it back into her purse; this had given him enough information for the time being. He was starting to worry that this attack may have been more than a random mugging if it had been in front of her home. Perhaps it would have been better if he'd killed the man.

"She's a lawyer. According to this address her firms right down the road from the apartment's you found her at, the guy must have followed her on her way home. She would have been walking, it's not far enough away to drive." Raphael's eye ridges met in confusion,

"If she's a lawyer what's she doing in that apartment complex? It's a piece of crap." Michelangelo shrugged,

"Dunno, easy access to her job?" Raphael looked over at her unconscious form; that made her brave in his book. Not only could she fight tooth and nail to survive being attacked, but she also lived in a place that was regularly burglarized. Besides, if she really lived there to be closer to her work than that meant she was dedicated, a quality he liked to see in anyone.

"Hmmm…." Michelangelo made the questioning noise as he read intently at one of the files.

"Elaborate or get punched." Raph intoned, he was in no mood to forestall any information that could be significant.

"She's a criminal defense lawyer." Mike answered, still reading the documents. Raphael made a face. He and all his brothers had at one point or another been responsible for putting a criminal in jail, only to have them released because of a slick defense lawyer.

"This guy she's defending, it looks like he robbed a bank a gunpoint and almost killed the cop on duty. He got twenty, but it looks like she's trying pretty hard to get him out soon." He closed the file and handed it to his brother. Raphael flipped it open and read through it. It certainly showed him a new side of her. Did this mean she was a bleeding heart? Or did she not care if the man was innocent or guilty, only after a paycheck? There was a lot of damming evidence against the guy; there had been an affirmative match of DNA, and two witnesses had positively ID' him.

Raphael shut the folder and handed it back to Michelangelo, who stuffed it back into the bag.

"I'm going to sleep, where are you crashing?" Mikey asked. Raphael relaxed back into the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him,

"I'm gonna stay here for a while, make sure she's alright. I'll probably move to the couch later." Michelangelo looked at him doubtfully. He knew Raphael, and he knew that his brother had the kind of personality that would cause him to watch over his new charge like the innate guardian that he was. He would be at her bedside all night.

"All right, see you in the morning. Call if something happens." And Mikey left, quietly shutting the door behind him. Raphael sighed, reached over and turned off the lamp on his chair side table, and settled back for a long night.

_**xxx**_

Theresa felt as though she was coming out of a deep fog. Images that seemed as though they were taken from a horror film flashed through her mind. She had a terrible feeling of overwhelming panic as she remembered the shadowed figure stalking her like she was his prey. She'd run, just as a gazelle would before the lion attacked, and recalled that she'd unintentionally cornered herself. The apartment, as dilapidated as it was, was the home she'd returned to every night, and it had now become her downfall.

A stab of sick fear shot through her heart as she pictured the rough hand that had caressed her breast. She jerked, trying to escape the horrid memory, and recollected that she hadn't lain down to die, but rather fought for her life. It was blurred exactly what happened as the fog in her mind began to clear a bit, but she remembered a face, the fierce yet kind face of a protector, _her_ protector. Her eyes began to open slightly, and she couldn't help but give a weak smile as the first thing that came swimming into view was that face. That wonderful, oddly beautiful, face.

_**xxx**_

Raphael had not really been sleeping, only closing his eyes for a moment. He'd been wrenched from his respite, however, by the sound of a distinctly female groan. He'd clamored out of his chair, trying to shake off the last clinging tendrils of 'deep resting' he stubbornly refused to admit had been slumber. The woman was moving, twitching and moaning as if in a bad dream. This disturbingly reminded Raphael of the nightmare he'd had to pry Michelangelo out of only last night. He leaned over her, watching her face intently. Her brows were knit together as though she was desperately trying to remember something.

And then, quite suddenly, something shifted in her expression. Her full lips curved upwards and her face relaxed, as though something she'd recalled had the most profound calming agent Raphael had ever witnessed. Before he could move away her eyes fluttered open, and he could see that they were a deep chocolate brown. He cringed inwardly, knowing the reaction that would soon be coming. He had seen it many times. The victim, getting his or her first glance at any of the turtle's mutated faces would either; scream, faint, fight, or run.

But Theresa only smiled wider when her eyes seemed as though they'd finally focused. She reached up a hand and her cool fingers grazed Raphael's cheek. The turtle could do nothing as his voice became lodged in his throat and all thought's expired, only leaving him with the sense of touch, and a kind of connection that he'd never experienced before. She seemed elated and relived at his presence, instead of terrified and confused. Her palm, the one not wrapped in gauze, flattened gently over his jaw line, shooting what felt like an electric charge through Raphael's body. Then she spoke, her voice (although a bit rough from the choking), was a thin slice of what he thought heaven could possibly be like. Raphael's eyes widened and his eye ridges shot as far up his brow as they could when he heard her words. They were simple, yet life changing.

"I knew when I saw you that I wasn't dreaming" Her eyes, soft and penetrating, swept over his face before finishing with a tender and grateful,

_"Thank you."_

_**xxx**_

**Authors Note;** Mu-wah-hahahahahaha! My evil plan to throw Raphael completely off guard could possibly be successful. Please review! No flames though, only constructive criticism (in other words; be nice, I'm sensitive…kinda… not really).


	4. Chapter Four, When the fog clears

_**Chapter Four: When the fog clears**_

**_xxx_**

Raphael sat staring at the glass of water that sat in front of him, whishing that it was liquor. Splinter would tolerate no such thing though, and even though his surrogate father was bed ridden, he wouldn't disrespect his wishes. He was exhausted, but couldn't find it possible to drag himself to the couch and get a well deserved rest. His eyes felt heavy and were staring to burn from the strain of keeping them open.

There was a dead quiet that enveloped Raphael so that he could swear his ears were ringing from the lack of sound. He was seated at the scarred kitchen table staring blankly at the wall clock whose hands read that it was now three o' clock in the morning. He threw a cursory glance over his shoulder at the subway compartment he had renovated into his room._She_ was in there.

At the thought his fingers began to drum noisily on the table top. He'd stood there looking at her like a deer caught in head lights when she'd gratefully thanked him. Just stood there, staring at her like she was from another planet. Then her eyes had fluttered and she'd fallen into a deep, relaxed sleep, her hand falling away from his cheek to her side.

It had taken him a few minutes to finally gather himself together and walk to Michelangelo's room. He'd knocked loudly, not really realizing that he'd just continued to pound on the door until Mikey had slid it open in a rush, looking like he may have a heart attack.

"What the hell man?" He'd demanded. Raphael had just stared at him, unsure of what to say, or how much to tell his brother.

"She woke up" He'd said simply.

Michelangelo looked at him for a moment, completely confused by the statement. Then his eyes had widened and he'd pushed past Raphael, pounding on Donatello's door just as Raphael had done to him, until the purple banded brother had answered. Leo had appeared outside of Splinters room also, awakened by all of the noise, and looked angry as hell. They'd all calmed down when Mikey had relayed Raphael's message.

Donny had immediately raced to the room Theresa was currently occupying, with his brothers following close behind. He'd confirmed what Raphael had already suspected, that she'd awakened from her state of unconsciousness before falling to sleep. "Much safer to sleep naturally then to be knocked out" Donatello had said. There had been more talk of taking her to a hospital, which Raphael and Michelangelo had quickly squashed. Leonardo was less argumentative than he had been earlier; perhaps it had been because of the late hour, or the black eye he was now sporting.

Raphael kept staring at the clock, watching the minutes ticking away. 3:04, 3:05, 3:06. Still, he sat in the straight backed chair, not really knowing how he felt. This certainly was an uncommon experience for him, since his emotions were usually carried right on his shoulder. He tried breaking it down, going through his thoughts and emotions piece by piece.

First off, there was guilt. An assaulted woman was sleeping in his room, which he felt he carried a large part of the blame for since he'd been too stupid to make sure she wasn't thrown into brick wall.

'_Stupid, stupid, stupid'_ he thought.

Secondly, he was confused. Not only was this girl tenacious and brave and smart, she was also thankful. _Thankful_. When in his whole life had anyone ever thanked him like that? April had of course been very grateful, but that had been after her first shock of seeing all of the turtles, of knowing them and growing accustomed to their odd faces. This woman had no fear, only gratitude.

Vexed, Raphael thought lastly on the third emotion he was experiencing. It certainly wasn't love, he wasn't so dense as to believe in something so…_Shakespearian_. He had fallen for the blindfold people called love before. No, this was something quite different. It was_attraction_. It was want that had coursed through him, that electric charge that had made him feel like the tiny hairs that he did have on his arms were standing up.

He groaned to himself,"I'm an idiot."

Out of the four brothers it had always been Raphael and Michelangelo who were quick to fall into lust and call it love. Michelangelo, easily the most laid back and formerly the most naive of the group, was always seeing a pretty face and declaring it was true love. And Raphael, who was difficult and seemed at times callous, loved the thought of romance. He emulated old actors like Bogart and Kelly. Idolized singers such as Sinatra and Martin. He was a romantic deep at heart, and it was obvious, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Or at least, he _used_ to be a romantic. Mia had changed everything.

He grimaced at the thought of her. All legs and dark hair. Pink lips and a valley accent that had eventually become annoying. Two years of his life he had wasted on the delusion of love. Even the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. She'd been coy and beautiful and _aggressive_. She'd been a fake, and she'd been a liar. Raphael was staring to feel anger eddy into him and laid his head on the table. He could ignore all these thought's and sentiment's that were swirling around in him, making him feel like a harbor for every vast emotion existing. However, ignoring all his emotions had never proved to be a good idea in the long run, seeing as they eventually all came tumbling out at once. It was part of the reason he was such an angry and outspoken individual.

He wasn't sure exactly when he'd fallen asleep, his head awkwardly lying there on the kitchen table. His heavy eyelids had finally collapsed under the weight of what felt like cinder blocks pushing them down. The glass of water was left untouched, beginning to sweat, fat water droplets rolling down the sides. Raphael's breathing was shallow and his cheek was flattened against the table, a bit of saliva was actually dripping onto the table. His slumber, as uncomfortable as it was, was undisturbed by dreams. It only held a welcomed enveloping darkness, erasing all the troubles of his life away, if only for a few hours.

_**xxx**_

It was two hours later, at 5:30, that Theresa's eyes began to flutter open. Her head was pounding as if a small person with a very large hammer was beating on the inside of her skull. She immediately brought her hands up to her temple and felt a sharp pain race through her left palm. Her eyes began to water so it took a moment for them to focus on the hand that was wrapped in medical gauze.

"Fuck"

She cursed out loud. As the pain developed into a dull ache, she looked over at the nightstand next to the bed and noticed a note propped against a bottle of pills. Next to the pills was a bottle of water. She started to reach for the note and took a sharp breath through her teeth. Her ribs were on fire. The searing pain actually made her give a tiny cry and clutch at her sides with right hand.

"Jesus Christ it's like a trifecta of fucking pain." She groaned and sat up as slowly as she could, reaching out a shaking hand and grabbing the note along with the bottle of pills, which she was relieved to see read 'codeine.' The note read;

'_If you wake up and no one is around to help you, take two of these pills for the pain and wait for it to take effect. If you need any help just yell. Donnatello'_

Theresa re-read the name; _Donnatello_.

"Weird" she mumbled to herself.

It was then that all the past evenings events came rushing back to her in a flood of memory.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed, putting a hand on her forehead. She been assaulted, rescued, and introduced to an entirely new species all in one night.

"Holy shit!" she repeated. Things were beginning to become a bit hazy so she opened the bottle and shook out two capsules, downing them both at once with a large swallow of the water. She lay back down and closed her eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted.

While she waited for the medication to kick in, she tried to put her memories into chronological order. First she'd lost her case and Lawrence had given her a ride to the office. Then she'd worked until about ten o' clock on the appeal paperwork before calling it a night and beginning to walk home. She grimaced as she recalled the figure following behind her, and the whole messy events that followed. She remembered the groping, the punches to the ribs, and the choking with a shudder. And then the face of her knight in shining armor loomed into her fog of memories before everything had gone black.

Things were a bit choppy after that. Snippets of distorted images, her drifting in and out of consciousness as she was being carried through what smelled like a sewer. A large, purple banded… _something_, looking over her and muttering things like 'coma', and 'smelling salts'. That elicited a jerk as Theresa remembered sharply the repugnant smell. Then something came sharply into focus. It was of her, thanking a similar looking red banded _something_, the one that had saved her. She smiled at that. It had been a good thing to do. She wasn't really sure what was going on, but that tall green whatever it was had saved her, and she was glad she'd been grateful. It was the least she could do, really.

She lay there on the unfamiliar bed for another thirty minutes, drifting in and out of sleep, before opening her eyes and looking around. The room was small, no windows in the back, two windows in the front, and there were _bars_ above her. Her brows met in mystification as she tried to discern what in the world she was looking at.

Then it hit her,

'_It's a subway car!'_

They were handle bars that she was looking at; she'd been on a subway enough times to know.This only added to her confusion as she wondered why a room had been put in a subway compartment. It was moderately clean though, a trench coat and hat that hung on a hook by the sliding door and under them sat the largest pair of boots she'd ever seen. It had to be a full sized bed that she laid in, and it was placed against the side of the room, a chair and small table sat at the foot of it and a nightstand next to the bed. All the lamps were mismatched and the carpet looked worn and stained, but vacuumed. A gave a small giggle at the sight of a poster that pictured a scantily clad Pamela Anderson posing sexily. Yes, this was defiantly a man's room. It seemed that her savior was of the male gender, if this was indeed his room.

Feeling anxious and contained, Theresa gradually raised herself off the bed into a sitting position.

'_Okay, so far so good'_ she though, feeling achy, but no where near the pain she'd experienced just a short time before.

'_This medicine rocks!' _she found herself thinking.As slowly as she could, she placed her feet on the ground. The room began to spin and she bent down and put her head between her legs until everything righted itself. She stood and looked down at her clothing. This was not what she had been wearing earlier. She felt a momentary panic before she realized that her undergarment were still on. She read the logo on the tee and made a face. 'Lead follow or get out of the way' was not a motto she appreciated.

Theresa slid open the door, pausing to take a look at the oversized shoes. All the laces had been pulled out of them. She shook her head and stepped out onto the platform in front of her. Her eyes widened as she saw that it was a full subway train. Each compartment looked like it had been turned into a room judging from the outside, each one had curtains over the windows, and all of them looked dark.

Spread out from the platform was a living area. There was a couch, recliner, and a TV to her left and to her right was an open door that looked like it contained a small gym. Straight ahead was a tiny kitchen, which immediately held all of her attention as there was a large figure seated at the table. She took a few slow paces forward and noticed the shell that protruded from the figures back and the ties of the red bandanna the fell over it. It was him, her protector.

Her bare feet padded silently over the hard cement floor that was sporadically covered with rugs, until she was standing next to him. He was sleeping, his head lying awkwardly on the marred table. He was a _turtle_. It was easy to identify what species he was, even though he was incredibly large for a turtle. The shell, green color, and slightly protruding beak gave it away.

She studied him for awhile, taking in his three fingered arms that were ripped with muscles, and teeth that she could just make out behind his thin open lips. She held back a giggle when she saw the drool that was pooling onto the table from his mouth. He looked tall and was solid with thick muscles. She considered his complexion for a moment, the dark green hue that was intermittently dotted with even darker green spots. He looked hard and unbreakable. He was scarred on his arm (it was down the left bicep and was almost six inches in length), and a thin, long time healed scar just under his right eye. He was rough and worn and sturdy and alpha. He was perfect.

The thought struck her as odd, that something like a mutated turtle could look perfect to her. Perhaps it was because he'd saved her. Maybe that had caused her to look at him differently than she would have if she'd just met him by chance. Still, she felt no fear or disgust as she looked down at his sleeping form, only the desire to know him. She debated whether or not she should wake him, but couldn't resist the urge to talk with him, for she was sure he could talk. She lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the sinewy muscles under her palm, and shook him just slightly.

"Hey, wake up" She said quietly, finding her voice raspy and a bit painful.

Raphael's eyes began to slide open. He was confused as to why he was being pulled from sleep, he was so tired. Then he saw her, standing there looking down at him, the lamp behind her causing a heavenly glow that made her look angelic. He sat up quickly, startled to see her. He felt wetness on his cheek and reached up a hand to wipe off his mouth.

'_Oh my God, I was drooling.' _humiliation built up in him as he noticed the small puddle of saliva on the table. He stood abruptly, walking over to one of the counters that lined the kitchen and opened its drawer. He extracted a hand towel and vigorously wiped the drool off of the table. Theresa was smiling, amused by his embarrassment. She took a seat opposite from where he'd been sitting, watching him wipe off the mess for far longer than was really necessary, before he took his seat. There was a long silence, Raphael looking anywhere but at her, and Theresa staring intently at his face, willing him to meet her eyes.

Finally Raphael abated, his eyes wandering to at last meet her intent look.

"You know," she began. "I fell asleep at work once, and when I woke up about three of my co-workers were seated around my desk. Apparently I'd been snoring so loud the clients were asking about the 'broken air conditioner.' My colleagues thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard."

She gave him a wide smile and Raphael, still feeling like a moron, started to feel a little better. He relaxed a bit and reached a hand around to rub his neck, he could almost guarantee that he wouldn't be napping on the table ever again. Pain from the uncomfortable sleeping position was coursing up and down his spine. He glanced at her, taking in her slightly disheveled appearance. She seemed perfectly fine besides the raspy voice and tousled hair.

Then, after a moment of contemplation, he said the first words that Theresa had heard from his lips.

"Sorry you got thrown inta' a wall." He'd looked into her eyes while he said it, but by the end of his sentence he was staring diligently down at the table. He was surprised when he heard the croaky laugh. It was cut shout with a little "ow!" and she put a hand up to her throat, but continued to smile at him.

"You saved me! Don't be sorry, it wasn't your fault." Her voice cracked a bit as she said it; her throat feeling like it was on fire. He looked at her fixedly, choosing his next word with careful deliberation.

Finally he said,

"Try not to talk too much. And it _was_ my fault, I hit the guy while he still had a hold of you. It was a real stupid thing to do." Theresa thought he looked genuinely upset about this, and was finding that she enjoyed his Brooklyn sounding accent. She gave him a small half smile and shook her head,

"I think I would have rather been thrown into a wall than raped and murdered."

Raphael looked at her, feeling awkward, like he needed to explain how very foolish he had been by not making sure she was out of harms way before he had attacked. His sensei had taught him to be aware and alert, and he'd made a mistake that could have cost her her life.

"You almost _died_." He stressed the word,

"And it would have been my fault."

He looked so distraught, so troubled, that Theresa found herself ready to reassure him in a second.

"Well, I didn't die, I'm right here. And that's all thanks to you." Raphael still looked unconvinced.

"It was Donny who kept you from dying, I didn't really do anything, I-"

Theresa shook her head, not allowing him to finish,

"You were the one who protected me, it was you that came to my rescue. But I'll make sure to thank Donny… is that Donnatello? He left me a note."

Raphael looked as if he wanted to argue the issue of his guilt some more, but pushed it to the side to answer her questions.

"Yeah, he's my brother, I have three." She looked at him with curious eyes, seeming as though she had a million questions she wanted to ask him.

Theresa looked surprised to hear that he had more brothers.

"All turtles I assume?" She asked.

Raphael nodded, "Why aren't you asking more questions about me bein' a turtle? Usually people are flippin' out right about now."

He looked weary and Theresa couldn't help but grin at him.

"I am curious; I didn't want to be rude though. You can tell me about it if you want." Raphael stood, nodding at her as he walked over to the stove. He didn't really mind telling her about his family; it was almost as if he needed to tell her something, anything to help her understand him better.

He grabbed the tea kettle and went to the sink, turning on the faucet and filling the kettle with water. He placed it back onto the stove and tuned on the eye before sitting back down across from her. By the time he had explained his weird existence along with a brief description of Splinter, Shredder, and The Foot, the tea kettle had begun to whistle.

Raphael removed the boiling water from the burner, took out two mugs from a cabinet, and fished out two tea bags from a canister on the counter. He made them both tea; setting her mug in front of her before fetching cream, sugar, and honey. He sat back down across from her with his own tea, putting only the tiniest bit of honey in it and stirring loudly with his spoon. Theresa added everything to her tea, including a liberal amount of honey. It felt like heaven as she took her first sip, soothing her irritated throat.

She smile at him,

"That was considerate of you, thanks."

Raphael nodded then looked at her, "You've gotta stop thankin' me."

She gave a quiet laugh, "You need to learn how to take a compliment."

They both smiled at each other and continued to sip their drinks. After awhile Theresa said,

"Listen, I know you feel bad, but please, I'm not mad at you. I'm really glad you showed up when you did. Just let it go, I don't blame you for anything so neither should you."

He looked at her for a moment, debating whether or not he should dispute the point, but eventually decided against it. She was probably right anyway, although he still felt awful about it.

They sat there, not really uncomfortable in the silence that surrounded them (which was new for Theresa, seeing as she always felt like she needed to keep a steady flow of conversation going with anyone else, even her mother).

Finally she asked,

"Why didn't you just take me to a hospital?"

She didn't know it, but it was like a slap in the face for Raphael, who had worked hard to make sure she'd been safe in the lair and not out on the sidewalk.

"I couldn't take you there at first because it was to far away. I knew Donny would be able to take care of you, and I was worried that you were to hurt to make it to the ER from the sewers."

He paused, wondering whether or not she'd think him ridiculous when he'd explained why he hadn't taken her to the hospital after she'd been stabilized.

"And after, well, they wanted to call a friend of ours who works at the ER and leave you on the sidewalk for her to 'find', but me and Mikey, my other brother, though that was dangerous." He looked at her steadily, hoping she wouldn't think him foolish for his actions.

But she smiled, looking as though she may go into another spur of thanks. He hated that, he wasn't used to so much gratefulness. It was completely unknown to him. He held out a hand to stop her as she opened her mouth and started to speak.

"Stop, no thank you's, I'm beginning to think it would have been better to just have taken you to the hospital. Now you're gonna have to explain how you already got medical treatment. And I left the guy who attacked you in the alley, so he's probably gone if he wasn't dead. Not much for the police to work with." Theresa raised her brows.

"You think I need to make a police report still?" She asked.

Raphael nodded, "Yeah, the hospital will call them anyway, once you tell them you were attacked. Plus, I'm thinking it was probably a random attack, but since it was outside of your apartment you never know. I would be good to have a police report in case anything like this ever happens again."

It took Theresa a moment to process all of what he had just said. Her head cocked to the side and she studied him behind narrowed eyes,

"How did you know I lived there?"

Raphael looked at her guiltily. "Oh… um, I-we… me and Mikey looked through your purse. I thought maybe I could find out something about you… you know- why you were attacked… and stuff…" He finished lamely.

He knew how possessive women were about their purses. April always had a cow when Michelangelo would go rummaging through it for a piece of gum. And old girlfriends of Raph's had never wanted him to be in their purse without explicit permission first. He felt his cheeks burning and found himself wondering how many time he would continue to screw up around her. Theresa sighed.

"Its no big deal, there wasn't much important stuff in there anyway." Raphael expelled a breath of relief.

Theresa gave him a small smile,

"So I'm guessing you went through my brief case as well." It was stated less as a question and more as an acknowledgement.

Raph gave a small nod, "Yeah, you're a lawyer huh?"

Theresa shook her head in affirmation, "Yes, _finally_. I've been with the Shade firm for a year and a half now. I interned with them and when I finished school Lawrence, he's the head lawyer; he liked me so much he brought me in as a partner. I did divorce law with him for six months, and then branched off into criminal defense. Divorce is where all the money comes from, but I like to help the less fortunate between cases. Shade will be retiring soon and I'll take over the divorce law portion of the firm."

Raphael stared at her. She'd said, "_Less fortunate" _did she mean criminals?

"So you… you defend criminals?" He was asking hesitantly, not wanting to offend her, but not being able to help being slightly offended. He worked hard to keep unlawful persons, like the guy who had attacked her, off of the streets. And she was working to get them out of jail? _What the hell?_

Theresa looked like she understood the emotions that were coursing through him.

"The beauty about being a lawyer is that I can turn down a case. I only take people who I truly believe have been wrongly accused. I do a lot of divorces, and that's where most of my income comes from. I just do criminal defense on the side. No one wants to be wrongly accused, and no one really wants a public defender if they can't afford a lawyer. Not to say that some court appointed lawyers aren't good, it's just that their paid by the state no matter what the outcome of the case is. You tend to work a little harder if you're getting paid specifically for the purpose of getting a client cleared of all charges. Do you understand?"

She was like a teacher, explaining softly to the class why things were the way they were, and Raphael found himself comprehending what she was saying.

He nodded, "Yeah, I get it; you only take the good guys, the ones who were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Theresa brightened, "Exactly! I only want to help people who would otherwise be stuck rotting in a jail cell until the police finally figured it out, or worse, sitting in a jail cell while _no one_ figured it out. I'm not a shyster, although I do work with one."

Theresa thought of Justin Hunt, he was a slick lawyer, and took _any_ case if he thought he could win it. She hated that, lawyers like him gave lawyers like her a bad name. She couldn't begin to count the number of times she'd had to explain why she was defending criminals. Many times the conversations had turned into screaming matches, some people not as understanding as the turtle had been. She grimaced at the thought; people looked at her like she was scum of the earth sometimes. An armament of rapist and murderers, and no better than the felons she fought for. Raphael though she was looking a bit upset, but didn't comment, he was tired, and she needed to get to a hospital. "Hey, let's figure out what you're gonna tell the doctors." Theresa was broken out of thought. She looked at the turtle and nodded.

_**xxx**_

It was less than an hour later when Raphael knocked on Michalangelo's door. He and Theresa had come up with what he thought was a pretty good plan. She would show up and the ER and tell the front desk that she'd been dropped off by a stranger, who had seen someone attacking her and had come to her rescue. After this _mystery stranger_ saved her, he had bandaged her wounds, let her rest, and taken her to the hospital.

Theresa would also conveniently forget what her rescuer had looked like. Theresa had looked skeptical, and Raphael suspected that she thought it was a bad plan. She'd said there were "too many holes" in the story.

Raph had shrugged, "Who cares." He'd said, "as long as they know you were attacked, and that the reason you have an IV hole in your wrist, and stitches on your forehead is because someone saved you. Just act like your disoriented and you don't remember what happened."

Theresa still looked unconvinced after that, but couldn't think of a story herself. Besides, the medication was wearing off, and her head was beginning to throb again.

Mikey answered the door, looking sleepy. It was after all only 7:35 and it was early for all of the turtles, who liked to sleep in after exhausting nights; such as the last.

"She's been up for a while now; we need to take her to the hospital. I already called Amy. She said she would keep a look out for her."

Michelangelo looked confused, trying to piece together exactly who _'she'_ was. Then it hit him, and he looked past Raphael at Theresa, who was still seated at the kitchen table. Mike had to swallow as he saw that she was still only clad in the large tee shirt that showed an awful lot of silky leg. Theresa seemed to notice and gave a tiny finger wave with one hand while she tugged down at the shirt with the other.

Mikey looked away quickly, only to find Raphael looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"You need to come with me before the others wake up. I don't want them asking her a million questions, I'd rather get her to the hospital before they get up and realize we're gone."

Mikey nodded and disappeared into him room. He emerged minutes later holding a pair of gray sweatpants. He walked to Theresa and held them out for her, pointedly looked up at the ceiling. She gave a small laugh and took them from him, slipping them on and tying the drawstrings. They were about four times to big on her and kept slipping sown her hips, but they would have to do.

Raphael had gone and put on his boots and trench coat and was now standing next to Theresa.

"Alright, let's hurry and get you to the hospital. I'll drop your purse off to you later… when your released."

Theresa smiled up at him; she took this as his way of saying he'd be around to check on her. The three walked out of the lair, but Theresa stopped short at the exit. It took the two brothers a moment to realize that she was no longer walking with them. They turned and saw her, teetering on the ledge and looking down at the sewer water. She was barefoot, and Raphael saw her shiver a little at the cold breeze that carried down through the cesspit.

He silently chided himself for being so thoughtless. She was hurt, she was cold, and she wasn't used to trudging around in dirty sewer water. Without a word he sloshed back over to the entrance and stood before Theresa. Raphael gently grabbed her hand and pulled her down until he was cradling her him his arms. She looked startled, and immediately started to protest, but the big turtle cut her off.

"Don't wiggle around so much, its harder to keep a hold of you. Besides, you have no shoes, your hurt, and you're not walking. Save it."

Theresa pressed her lips together, not used to the feeling of being carted around like a rag doll.

"Dude, the hospital's a ways up; I'll help you carry her when you get tired." Michelangelo said. Raphael nodded, but silently thought to himself that it would be him that carried her the whole way. There was no talking for a long time after that, and Theresa found herself completely relaxed in the red bandana clad turtles arms. She had one arm across her upper body, her hand holding her shoulder, and her other hand had reflexively pressed itself onto his plated chest. Raphael was aware of the little hands presence, and how every once and awhile its fingers would tenderly dig into the outlining of his plates, or how the thumb would move in little circles almost on their own accord. Raphael was sure she had no idea what she was doing, but was in no way about to say something that would cause her to stop. No, Michelangelo would _not _be carrying her.

Theresa's eyes fluttered closed, and she drifted in and out of slumber. Raphael glanced down at her, her thumb once again making circles on his chest. He grimaced to himself and stared ahead, his jaw tightly clenched.

Mikey had been stealing glances at the pair when he thought Raphael wouldn't notice, and had to work hard not to snort in laughter. He saw what her slim fingers were doing, and he also saw how his brother was watching her.

'_Ha, he's a goner.'_ Mike thought to himself, smiling wickedly.

He knew what his brother was like, the romantic that was hidden inside. Sure, he was insensitive and tough, but he had a weakness.

Well, he had more than one weakness- like his hot temper, and his quick to react rashness. But women, and the idea of romance, were his biggest disadvantages, his number one Achilles heel. He hoped that no one would get burned this time around; Mia had been a messy fiasco.

Michalangelo stopped suddenly, but Raphael kept walking, not paying attention to his surroundings.

"Dude! We're here."

Raphael halted and turned around looking confused. Mikey couldn't help but chuckle, "Bro, this is the closest manhole to the hospital."

Raphael made a face of disgust and trudged back to the ladder Mike was standing next to. He looked up at the opening, then said to Mikey,

"Open it for her, and then come back down. I'll go up with her and make sure she gets into the hospital." Michelangelo nodded and was up the ladder in a second.

"Theresa." Raph whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of her name, and she stared up at the turtle. Then it hit her, he knew her name, but she had no idea what his was. It had never been mentioned, she'd never even asked. She felt like an idiot.

"What's your name?"

Her voice was raspy and low, and Raphael almost moaned; it was sexy, the way she spoke so huskily while he had her wrapped in his arms. He hesitated for a moment, he hated his name, and you couldn't even shorten it to make it sound normal, like his brothers could. He gave a slightly annoyed sigh.

"Raphael." He mumbled, pointedly looking anywhere but her face.

There was silence, and he made himself look at her. He was surprised to see that she was only smiling, and there was no laughter in her eyes.

"It fits you… Raphael." She tried the name on her tongue.

It was a nice name for a large, rather cocky, turtle. Michelangelo appeared beside them, breaking the moment.

"Time to go, the street's pretty empty."

Theresa stared at Raphael, "You'll come and see me… right?" Her voice held anticipation and hope in it, and Raphael found that even if he wanted to, he couldn't deny her.

"I'll be over as soon as you get home. I want to make sure your safe in your apartment. Amy will give you the number to reach us at."

He gently lowered her until her feet touched the first bar of the rusting ladder. Theresa nodded, knowing somehow that he was telling her the truth, and turned to climb up the ladder. Cool air struck her cheeks as she stepped out into the street, and she breathed the air deeply. She looked down the road both ways, making sure there were no oncoming cars and that there was no one walking down the sidewalk, before motioning Raphael up.

He only lifted his lower torso out of the manhole. The hospital was visible from the road, and he simply needed to watch her until she made it to the entrance. From here he could see a recognizable figure just outside of the sliding doors.

"Hey, see that chick with the short black hair smoking, that's Amy, she's gonna make sure your ok."

Theresa nodded in comprehension, feeling a little lightheaded. The pain killers had worn of completely, and the throbbing in her skull was almost unbearable.

"You look pale, hurry and go." Raphael urged, feeling like he was abandoning a puppy to the side of the road.

She looked down at him.

"I… I know you don't want to hear it, but thank you." And before Raphael could even react, she'd leaned down and brushed her lips over his cheek. She turned and ran across the street to the sidewalk without another word, reaching the hospital doors quickly. He watched as she stopped at Amy, and after a somewhat quick conversation all but collapsed into her arms.

They disappeared into the ER's sliding doors, Amy helping Theresa walk with an arm under her shoulder, and Raphael expelled the air he hadn't known he'd been holding. His thick fingers reached up to feel his cheek, the place where she'd kissed him just moments before feeling hot to the touch.

"Damn." He whispered, and with that ducked back down into the sewers, he life becoming even more complicated, but somehow, better.

_**xxx**_

A/N: Well, this took forever, enjoy. I want to say a special thank you to Lola Hard. You're just great. I feel like you're the only one I'm writing this story for, so if there's anyone else out there, I'd appreciate some feedback.


	5. Chapter Five, The Shadow in the Night

_**Chapter Five: The Shadow in the Night**_

**_xxx_**

There was something wrong. Something was amiss, although he couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was pain, such an immense pain, and it consumed him wholly. _'_

_Have to get up, have to get away…'_ That though kept returning, but he didn't know why. What was going on?

'_Try to think… try to think!'_

He'd been stalking, just as he did on most nights. He'd become excited and electrified, thinking to himself that on _this_ night he would have her, _this_ was the night he would show her the true depth of his love.

He could picture his hands wrapping around her slender neck and he penetrated her, her rape and death becoming one. He had let her see him, let her know he was there. He had purposely followed close behind her and made his footsteps echoed piercingly. He loved the chase, the thrill. She was not his first; there had been another woman, a child really. But that had been quick and unplanned, a whim really.

With her he'd premeditated _everything_. There was no room for messy mistakes with her. She was sharp and observant; she would have noticed his months of stalking if he'd not been so meticulously cautious. It kept him up in the late hours of the night, just thinking about what she may taste like. He replayed over and over again the look on her face when she realized who it was that was taking her perfect life away.

She never had a moment to spare for him, never gave him a second look, well he was going to show her. He would be the last thing her pretty eyes would see. He'd watched her for so long, longer than he could have ever possibly imagined. There had been so many times that he'd almost given up and shown himself to her. But he'd been patient; and now it was going to pay off. He would have her, he would taste her, and he would watch the life leave her eyes while he took everything she possessed.

But no, that wasn't right. He'd known the time was right when he'd been following her home; he had planned it for weeks. And in the dark recesses of his mind he could remember touching her and choking her, but not having her, not killing her. What had happened? He remembered her trembling body pressed flush against him, and he recalled the mounds of her breasts as he had callously crushed them beneath his palms. What had happened?

His eyes opened weakly and his vision was terribly blurred. He'd been attacked. Someone had saved that little cunt, someone had come to her rescue and disrupted his carefully thought out plan. He raised himself to his feet, staggering under the weight of his own body. The ally was spinning and he leaned against the brick wall to steady himself. He had to go, before he was caught. He would be back for her though, he would finish what he'd set out to do. He would have her, and he would kill anyone who tried to stop him from possessing her; even if it meant giving his life to see her take her last pitiful breath.

_**xxx**_

Raphael was pacing. His brothers were all seated at the couch, and Raphael was walking back and forth in front of it, his face a mask of worry and concentration. The three brother's heads would follow Raphael back and forth, like a dog following a treat, watching him as he paced. Finally Leonardo spoke.

"Raph… is there something you wanted to say or are you just intent on making us miss our show?"

Raphael's head jerked up and he stopped walking. He looked around in confusion before he realized that he was indeed pacing in front of the television. First it had been his own room, then (feeling to confined in the place _she_ had slept in), he'd moved to the kitchen. She had been there to though, and he must have made his way to the living room portion of their home, one of the only places besides the bathroom and dojo that was untouched by her body.

"How long have I been in here?" He asked, still looking puzzled.

"Like five minutes dude, you were totally out of it." Michelangelo's eyes were bright, like he'd been holding back laughter, and he was looking at Raphael with a large smile plastered on his face.

Raphael was looking like he might snap. The anger was there, right on the threshold, and it was always ready to pour out onto anyone who tested it, especially if they were laughing at him. He glared at Michelangelo and opened his mouth to say something cutting, when the phone rang.

There was a deafening silence as all eyes turned to the telephone. On the second ring Raphael sprang into action, jumping over the chair that had been in his way and rushing to the phone that was placed in the kitchen. He could hear his brothers laughing, Donatello actually beginning to choke from such an intense bout of hysteria. But Raphael didn't care, what did it matter that they thought his rushing to the phone was amusing, he was still going to talk to Theresa.

He answered on the third ring, his voice full of gruff anticipation.

"Hello?"

There was a pause on the other end, and then a small voice said,

"Raphael? Is that you?"

Raphael could hear himself sighing in relief, it was Theresa.

"It's me. Are you home? Are you ok? Do you need me to come over now?"

He could hear more laughter behind him and resolved to tune it out.

"I'm still at the hospital, and I'm fine. They gave me some really good medication. Anyway, the police are taking me to my apartment and their going to have a look around, see if anyone is available for questioning. Ummm, it probably wouldn't be a good idea for them to see you, but I can call you as soon as they leave and then you can bring my purse over."

There was a pause, in which Raphael tried to gather his emotions. She only wanted him to bring her things over, that was all. He felt his heart drop.

"Yeah, I'll bring your stuff; call me when you're ready."

Another pause, then,

"You-you could stay… for dinner or something… I-I I'd like you to stay for awhile… if you want."

Raphael smiled, his heart pumping a little faster and his spirits lifting.

"I'd like some dinner, if you're not too tired."

He could hear her sighing on the other line and came to the realization that she was just as nervous as he was.

"I am tired, but I want to see you. I already called the office and let them know what was going on. I have until Monday to get back to work, so I can sleep in tomorrow. I'm not really up to cooking anything, but I can order pizza."

Raphael almost laughed, he'd practically lived on pizza his whole life, and it would be a perfect dinner.

"I'll be right over as soon as you call."

He could almost hear her smile, if that was even possible.

"It shouldn't be to long, I don't imagine that the police will find anything. Your friend Amy was very helpful filling in the gaps of our story, she kept telling the officers I was disoriented. She may not have been lying though."

There was a small laugh on her end and Raphael shook his head. Thank God for Amy, she was always getting him out of sticky situations. He remember the time they were out seeing a movie and he'd gotten into a fight with one of the other movie goers who had been talking very loudly through the previews. The two ended up in a screaming match and Raphael had poured a bucket of popcorn over the discourteous patrons head.

It had been looking pretty grim when ushers were rushing to the source of all the noise, their flashlights waving about, looking for the faces of the people arguing. Raphael had known they were going to see more than a human face, and had looked about wildly for an escape route. Amy, fast thinker that she was, faked a seizure and Raphael had scooped her up and carried her out of the theater as quickly as he could. Man, if his brothers ever found out about that… Leo would freak.

Theresa and Raphael talked only a bit longer before they disconnected. Theresa gave a sigh of relaxation and settled back into her hospital bed, looking around her empty room. She didn't know why she had sounded so nervous on the phone. She'd been so at ease with Raphael before, but she could feel her throat closing when he had answered the phone. She had almost talked herself out of calling at all, but had dialed before she could change her mind.

And now he was eating dinner with her, a large turtle was eating dinner with her. Was this a date? Could you date a turtle? No, Theresa shook her head. This was certainly _not_ a date, only a… meeting. Yes, a meeting so that two people… two living things, could better acquaint themselves. _Not_ a date. Besides, who had pizza on a first date? Theresa gave herself a mental head slap,

'_Why do you even care Theresa? You just met him. You don't even know him that well. He's a TURTLE!'_

She was feeling like her brain was about to explode. She was sure she was making a bigger deal out of this than was need be. However, she drifted into a light sleep five minutes later thinking the same thing over and over; _is it a date?_

_**xxx**_

It was _not_ a date.

This is what Raphael kept telling himself as he trudged through the sewer water, carrying Theresa's purse and shoulder bag. All this was; was a meeting of two potential friends, _not _a date. So he was eating pizza, so what. He ate pizza a lot. He ate pizza with Amy all the time, and those weren't dates.

'_Amy is gay you idiot. Nothing with her is a date.'_

He groaned at that thought, could Theresa be gay? That would certainly keep this from being a date. Raphael made a face; he couldn't help but feel as though he'd be very upset if she was gay.

He shook his head, _'no she cant be gay… shit, I thought that about Amy and look at her, always out in some frikin' parade.'_

This was disturbing. It was true that he was working himself up, and he knew that. But it was unpreventable as he was very nervous. The last date he had been on was with Mia, and that had not ended well.

Mental head slap; _'Not a date!'_

As he reached the manhole Raphael took a few claming breaths, trying to clear his mind.

"This is not a date." He told himself sternly.

His brothers had been teasing him since Theresa had called and let him know she was home and the police were gone. They had kept saying that it was indeed a 'first date.' Michelangelo had even offered to go and buy him a corsage.

This roused another bout of laughter from his brothers that had followed him out of the lair. He had wanted to say something snarky to Mikey, but had been too happy that his brother had been joking with everyone to risk it. He wanted to make sure he didn't say anything that would cause him to regress back into his old depressed self, so he'd just left, not wanting anyone to see that he was actually smiling from ear to ear.

Raphael peeked out of the manhole before emerging completely. It was starting to get dark earlier now that summer was ending, which made it easier for Raphael to move around unnoticed. He was always worried about going top side before nine o'clock, especially when he hadn't bothered donning his coat and hat, but it was only seven and dusk was already settling down on the city.

He looked up at the apartment building; this would have been much easier if Theresa lived in a first story dwelling. Instead Raphael had to walk over and grip the fire escape ladder. He pulled down hard, expecting resistance from the rusty old thing, but was surprised to find it slid down smoothly and without any noise. His brows furrowed, that was not his typical experience with fire escape ladders. It was normal for them to make a lot of noise, as they weren't usually used with regularity. He climbed up the ladder swiftly and came to Theresa's window.

It was surprising to Raphael to also see that Theresa's window slid open so easily, and that she was a smoker. There was a small pile of cigarette butts on the platform of the fire escape. He hadn't pictured her as a smoker, and instantly found himself thinking that maybe they wouldn't have as much in common as he had hoped. He stuck his head into the screenless open window and called out,

"Theresa! I'm here."

He heard some movement from another room and then heard her yell back,

"Come on in, I was just getting ready to order some pizza."

Raphael slid into what he saw was her bedroom. It was immaculately clean, and he found that he was glad they shared that in common, Raphael hated a messy space. Her bed was made, and was only a few feet from the window, a nightstand separating them. There was a small television set on a dresser that was on the opposite wall as her bed, and Raphael laughed to see that she actually still had rabbit ears.

Raphael exited her room into a small hallway that had a bathroom on the left, and a small room on the right, which he saw was being used as an office. Theresa was waiting for him as he stepped out into the living room.

She smiled, "Want the grand tour?"

He stared at her. She was wearing jeans that were ripped at the knees, black tee shirt, and her hair was pulled up into a high pony tail. It was simple, but was having the oddest of effects on Raphael. He thought that the one thing about her apperance, out of all the beauty she was emitting at that moment, was her bare feet. It was cute the way she was so comfortable in her home, even with company coming, that she didn't feel the need to at least put some socks on. Raphael realized that he hadn't spoken for the last thirty seconds and that the silence was becoming increasingly awkward.

"Oh, umm… yeah, grand tour would be good."

Theresa smirked at him before turning and sauntering into the living room. Raphael was amazed to say the least. Considering the location and decrepit condition of the building, he hadn't expected her apartment to be much to brag about. He was wrong, however. The brown couch and loveseat were large and cushioned and looked more comfortable than Raphael's own bed. They also looked expensive. They sat on top of a deep red oriental rug that had the brown color of the couches intricately woven into it.

But the most impressive thing in Theresa's living room caused Raphael's mouth to actually drop. It was a 60 inch flat screen plasma HD TV mounted to the wall opposite the living room set.

"Wow."

He said in a reverent whisper, and it caused Theresa to laugh.

"You're pathetic. Your just like every other man I've met, they all go nuts over this stupid TV. I only got the thing because the guy at Circuit City wouldn't shut up about all its features. I just wanted a TV, not a flippin' robot. Right?"

Raphael just looked at her, disbelief etched on his face. Theresa threw up her hands in defeat,

"Go figure. Everybody loves this dumb TV."

Raphael followed her as she turned and walked into the kitchen, finding it hard to turn away from something he thought was probably better than sex. Well… maybe just as good as sex. A TV could probably only tie with sex, never beat it, unless it was really bad sex. And even bad sex was good.

He shook his head,

'_Stay away from thoughts about sex Raph, your in enough trouble as it is, looking at her like she's some kind of pie. Yeah… cherry pie."_

He shook his head again,

'_What the hell is wrong with me?'_

It was then that he noticed he was staring at her again. Theresa was looking at him with an amused expression on her face, leaning up against her kitchen counter. Raphael blushed,

"Sorry, I'm… I'm an idiot."

Theresa laughed,

"Yeah well, I guess all men are the same, no matter what species they are."

Raphael didn't know what to say to this, so he said nothing, but he was thinking that it hadn't been a compliment.

She turned and picked up the cordless phone that was hanging next to the oven. "Lazario's ok? I don't eat pizza too often but someone told me they were good."

Raphael nodded, "Yeah, their good. Order a supreme, you wont be sorry."

Theresa smiled. She liked that he could tell her what he wanted. It was one of her pet peeves when a man would tell her to get 'whatever she wanted' when they were ordering out on a date.

'_Not a date!'_

She mentally rolled her eyes and opened her yellow pages to where she had marked Lazario's number earlier. She ordered their food and was told she would be waiting for an hour. Thursday night must be a busy time. She looked at Raphael after she had hung up the phone.

"It's an hour wait… umm… you wanna sit and talk? I have beer."

Raphael nodded, "Beer is fine. Here."

He handed her the purse and bag he'd been carrying on his shoulders, relived to not have to be lugging them around anymore. Theresa took them and sat them on one of the chairs at her kitchen table.

Raphael sat at the table as she went to her refrigerator and pulled out two Corona lights.

_'Girl beer,'_ he thought to himself.

She opened it and placed the cold beer in front of him. He took a sip and looked around her kitchen. It was small, but cozy. There was enough room in it for the round table that seated four, but just barely. The counter space was limited and only boasted a coffee maker and a small George Forman grill. It had been painted a bright sunny yellow and there was a boarder around the room that had large sunflowers on it. It was pretty and it had a distinctive feminine charm. It was also obvious that it was the heart of the apartment, the gathering place. It was warm and welcoming, and there were cushions on the hard backed chairs so that a person's butt wouldn't go numb. Raphael liked that.

"So, how are you feeling?" Raphael asked, wanting to get right into conversation.

Theresa nodded, "I'm ok, all things considered."

Raphael watched her as she toyed with the label on her bottle.

He said, "You know, people are always sayin' that."

She looked at him blankly, "Saying what?"

He took another sip of his drink before answering.

"Saying _'all things considered.'_ What's that even mean? How is that an answer? You're either ok or your not."

Theresa laughed, "I guess your right."

She sighed then continued, "Well, I'm not ok, not really. I was almost raped, hell I was almost killed. I was scared as hell when I walked into the apartment. I kept thinking someone was going to jump out at me. I probably wouldn't have even been able to come home if the police weren't with me and if I hadn't known you-"

Her head jerked up to look at him, and he raised his eye ridges in a silent urging for her to continue.

"Um… I guess if I hadn't known you were going to come over I would have been too scared to be here alone."

This caused Raphael to give a lopsided smile.

"I'm your protector. Here to make sure the boogieman isn't hiding under your bed."

Theresa was feeling bad, thinking he may have taken her comment the wrong way.

"I didn't mean that I only wanted you to come over because I was scared, I just meant that… well… I feel safe, when you're around."

Raphael waved a hand in dismissal, "I know what ya meant."

Theresa gave a self-conscious nod.

"Well, what about you? How are things since the last time we talked?"

Raphael gave a small chuckle, "You mean since last night, or my life in general?"

Theresa bit her lip as though she were thinking about it.

"Well, we have some time to kill, so what the hell. How's life?"

Raphael sighed, "Life is confusing. I feel like crawlin' in my shell sometimes and never coming out."

"Can you do that?"

Raphael looked at her, "Huh? Oh you mean crawl into my shell. Nah, not since I was little. Me and Mikey used to swing bows at each other till' one of us couldn't get our head in our shell quick enough and got banged upside the head. It was a pretty cool game till I hit Mike to hard and knocked him out. Splinter was _pissed_."

Theresa smiled wide, "Mikey is the brother who walked with you to the hospital right? The one in orange?"

Raphael nodded, "Yeah, that's Michelangelo. You'll like him, usually he's a big joker, but lately he hasn't been himself."

_Now why did he go and say a thing like that?_

He never talked about family business with anyone unless he'd known them for a long time.

"What's wrong with him?"

Raphael looked at her for a long moment, wondering if he should tell her. He was a bit shocked to find that he _wanted_ to tell her. He never wanted to talk to anyone about personal things, but he was ready and willing to open up to this girl, who was essentially a stranger. _Amazing._

"Mikey is… I guess you'd call it depressed."

Theresa looked mildly concerned, "Why, what happened? What's wrong?"

Again Raphael hesitated, feeling as though he were gossiping, but also feeling that he really wanted to tell her, to finally get this off his chest. He'd felt like he was the only one dealing with all this responsibility lately. What with Leonardo spending so much time caring for Splinter, and Donatello distancing himself from his brothers almost completely, Raphael had taken on a large part of looking after the "baby" brother.

"Well… five months ago Mikey's Ex-girlfriend was killed. Don't ever call her an Ex around Mike though, he'll flip out."

Theresa looked mortified, "That's horrible, what happened?"

Raphael knew she wanted to hear, wanted to know, and he wanted to tell her.

He threw himself into the story, grateful to see that Theresa just let him talk, not interrupting once.

"Her name was Jaden. Her and Mikey dated for a little less than a year, and then they broke up. Well, she broke up with him, which was a big shocker cause' they seemed real happy. He was a mess. It took him three months to start seeing someone else. And then one day, he got a call. She called him and said she wanted to talk, that she had something important to tell him. He left looking so happy, and he just kept saying, _I know she wants to get back together, I could tell it in her voice._"

Raphael looked at her, a sadness in his eyes that he didn't often show.

"When he got to her apartment, someone had broken in and raped her… and well." There was a pause, Theresa's eyes wide in shock.

"She was dead, before he could get help." Raphael finished, taking a large pull on his beer.

He though it was probably best not to tell Theresa that Michelangelo had come in to find the killer still there, and had rushed after Jade's murderer and slaughtered him. It had been gruesome to say the very least.

There was a long silence. Theresa looked very disturbed and upset, and that had been the last thing that Raphael had been trying to do. He realized that Jaden's fate had been very close to what had almost happened to Theresa.

"I didn't want to upset you; I shoulda' kept my mouth shut."

Theresa shook her head vehemently, "No, your fine. That's just so sad. Did they ever find her murderer?"

Again Raphael was feeling uncomfortable. He didn't want to lie to her, but he also didn't want to tell Theresa what his brother had done, even he had felt a bit sickened by it.

"Um, yeah… he was dead already though… so no trial."

Another pause.

Theresa's mind was racing, _already dead_? What did that mean?

She wanted to ask him, but it was obvious he didn't want to talk about it anymore, and that it was making him uncomfortable. So instead she changed the subject, knowing from personal experience what it was like to be sucked into a conversation you had no interest in talking about. This unfortunately caused her to say the first random thing that popped into her head.

"So can turtles have sex?"

Raphael looked at her, mouth agape. It took a lot to shock him, and this was something he definitely had not been expecting. Apparently Theresa had not been expecting it either, because she looked just as shocked as him.

"I didn't mean that! Sometimes I just say stupid stuff. It just spills out when I'm nervous and I say the _dumbest_ things."

Raphael closed his mouth as his lips turned slowly into a crooked smile. Her explanations continued on as she rambled about 'word vomit' and 'foot-in-mouth syndrome' and Raphael decided to answer her.

"Turtles can have sex… some better than most humans."

He was flirting, treading on dangerous ground.

Theresa stopped her tirade of berating herself and snapped her mouth closed. There was a tension, an electrical connection that sparked between them, and it made Theresa nervous and exhilarated all at the same time.

"Oh. Um… I- you didn't have to answer. I shouldn't have asked, it was rude."

Raphael shook his head, a sly smile covering his face.

"You asked, I answered, not a big deal."

He wanted to say he could _show_ her that he could have sex, but thought that might be to bold.

"So then you've done it before?"

Theresa could have smacked herself. Why did she keep taking it further? It was bad enough that she couldn't decipher if this was a date or not, did she really need to ask him about his _sex life_? He kept on smiling though, grinning like a fool who's Christmas had come early.

"I've had the opportunity to have sex in these twenty four years, yes."

He answered, and almost found himself adding; _why do you ask, do you want to be a test subject?_

At that comment however, Theresa found her escape.

"You're twenty four? I'm twenty five, when's your birthday?"

Raphael gave her an amused look, wondering to himself if he should let her change the subject, but decided to move on to this new topic.

"We celebrate on July 5th; it's the day Splinter thinks he found us. There's no real way of knowing what day we were born though."

Theresa nodded, "Well happy belated birthday." She said.

Raphael could feel himself smiling again, and was sure this was the most he'd done so in his whole life.

"When's your birthday?" He asked her, suddenly wanting to know everything about her, trivial or momentous. What was her favorite color? How was her childhood? Did she have any allergies?

"I was born October 31st, on Halloween." She answered.

"Nice," Raphael said, "That had to be great growing up."

Theresa nodded, "You know, it really was. We would always have costume parties and I would get all kinds of presents, and then we would go trick or treating. When I got older my Dad would take me to haunted houses or the haunted hayride. It was fun, its still fun."

Raphael, once again, found himself grinning at her enthusiasm. He was about to ask her what she did for her birthdays now that she was older, but was cut short by a loud knock on the door.

Theresa got up and looked through her peephole.

"Pizza guy," she told Raphael, before pulling the door open and paying for the pie.

She sat the pizza on the table and retrieved two plates from one of her cabinets and two more beers. They got their share of the food and Theresa suggested that they make their way to the living room.

"We can make it dinner and a movie." She said, then immediately wanted to pound her head on the table.

'_Just like a date'_ she thought in dismay.

Raphael didn't seem to notice tough, and only agreed. She pulled out two TV trays that had been leaned against the wall and put them in front of the couch, realizing to late that she placed them side by side, so that she and Raphael would be probably be hitting elbows while they ate.

"Well, I have a lot of movies, pick whatever you want."

Raphael walked to the large stand that held her DVD's and began to read through them. He stopped short as he read through some of her titles.

"The African Queen? Casablanca? The Maltese Falcon?"

Theresa tensed as he turned to face her, she always dreaded when someone saw her movie collection.

"Um, I'm a big Bogart fan."

She stood there looking at him, wondering if he would begin teasing her or if he would laugh at her. Maybe he would do both. But Raphael was really trying to push down the urge to pull her to him and kiss her soundly on those big luscious lips.

"A fan huh?" He asked, still looking at her with a new found appreciation and a stirring lust.

Theresa nodded but said nothing. Then Raphael said something that made them both realize, even if it was only subconsciously, that they would always be together.

"This is the start of a beautiful friendship."

There was a moment of silence before Theresa could hold it in no longer and busted out laughing.

"That was so corny." She choked, water leaking to the corners of her eyes.

Usually Raphael would feel offended at being laughed at, but at this moment he could only laugh with her. He knew, although he didn't know how he knew, that she wasn't really laughing at him, but laughing because of him. This didn't really make a whole lot of sense to his brain, but his heart did a lot of happy thumping.

He turned from her and pulled out The African Queen from it respective place on the shelf. He placed it into the DVD player and then returned to the couch, sitting in front of the TV stand that held his pizza. She grabbed the remotes on the arm of the couch and sat next to him, starting the movie before she began to eat.

"Wow." She said as she took her first bite, "This really _is_ great pizza."

More smiling from Raphael, "I wouldn't lie to you. The guy that runs the place is straight from Italy, he knows how to make a good pizza."

They both quieted as the credits ended and the first scenes of the movie began to play out.

When the movie was half way through Theresa hit pause and took their dishes to the sink while Raphael put the TV trays away.

"You didn't have to do that." Theresa said when she saw him folding up the last tray.

"I like to help, don't complain." Raphael replied, giving her a wink.

Theresa smiled thinking that maybe, just maybe, there were some good men left; even if they were big green turtles.

She returned to her place on the couch next to the arm, and wasn't disappointed when Raphael took a seat right next to her. They weren't touching, but Theresa could feel his body heat, and it made her tingle to know he was this close. She didn't even mind that he was a different species. She pushed play on the movie, returning to Humphrey Bogart and Audrey Hepburn's seemingly hopeless plight.

It wasn't but twenty minutes later that Raphael found that his arm had somehow snaked around the back of the couch just above Theresa's shoulders. He didn't know how this had happened, and supposed that it had been ground into all men as standard protocol to hold a girl while they watched a movie. He'd been about to remove his hand when he thought to himself,

'_What if I just put my hand of her shoulder, that's not such a big deal…'_

He knew it was a bad idea, knew that if he did do it he would be starting something that he couldn't take back.

He did it before he could change his mind, sliding his hand over the material of the couch and onto her shoulder, keeping it there. He felt her tense and watched her out of the corner of his eye.

A million thoughts ran through Theresa head when he touched her, but it only took an instant for her to come to the realization that she liked his arm around her. Even more shocking was to find that he wasn't nearly close enough for comfort. She impulsively scooted closer to him so that their thighs were touching, and rested her head on his chest, making sure she kept her eyes glued to the TV the entire time.

Raphael was now the one who was tense.

'_Holy Shit! What the hell do I do now?'_

But his body and his brain seemed to be doing a lot of thinking without his knowledge, because before he knew it he was holding her close, his hand wrapped around her waist and resting on her hip.

They didn't say anything to each other, just sat there in that position while the movie played on; until Theresa's shallow breathing told Raphael that she had fallen asleep. He waited until the movie ended before waking her, taking that time to inhale the scent of her hair and rub his thumb over the silky skin of her arms.

"Theresa." He said softly, tapping her lightly on her shoulder.

She opened her eyes and looked at him blearily.

"I fell asleep." She said, not attempting to move out of his arms.

Raphael ran a hand up and down her arm, "Yeah, you've had a long day. I should go; you need to go to bed."

Theresa sat up, feeling a strange emptiness as Raphael's hand left her bare skin and went to rest in his own lap.

"Will I see you soon?" She asked, and was surprised to hear a note of anticipation in her voice.

"You'll see me as soon as you want."

He answered, knowing without a doubt that it was true. He would make a point of coming over tomorrow afternoon and checking on her.

Theresa walked with him to her bedroom.

"I had a really nice time Raphael."

She told him as he opened her window.

He turned and faced her, "I had one of the best times I've had in a long time."

He answered, finding that it had actually been one of the best times _ever_, right up next to his first kiss and the discovery of porn.

It was suddenly very awkward as they stood there in her dark bedroom, staring at each other as if they were waiting for something to happen.

"Um, I need to go. I'll come by and see you tomorrow." Raphael said.

Theresa nodded and watched as he exited her room and stepped out onto the fire escape. He peered in at her and she leaned her head out of the open window.

"Dose this window lock?" He asked her.

Theresa shook her head, "No, it's broken; it has been since I moved in. The super never fixes anything."

Raphael grimaced, "Well, wedge something in the top of the window so that it won't open."

Theresa opened her mouth to speak but Raphael cut her off.

"Please do this; I'll worry if you don't. It's not safe."

Theresa nodded, "I was only going to tell you that I had a broken mop I hadn't gotten around to throwing away that I could use." She said, smiling up at him.

"Oh." Raphael said, feeling like a heel for cutting her off.

Theresa didn't seem to mind though, in fact, she was thinking that it was awfully sweet that he was so concerned about her.

"Are you going to be ok by yourself?" Raphael asked, feeling like he was abandoning her.

"I've gotten used to spending my nights alone. I'll be fine, don't worry about me." She answered, giving him a reassuring smile.

Raphael didn't feel any better about leaving her there, but knew he had to go; he certainly couldn't stay the night.

"Alright, please do what I said with the mop."

Theresa laughed, "Don't worry I will. Please be careful on your way home. Don't step on any glass, or loose your way in those dark tunnels."

She was trying to sound motherly, but couldn't help that a real shade of worry actually laced into her voice.

"No need to worry about that, I know the sewers like you know… law."

Theresa laughed, "That was a nice compliment, seeing as you're not really sure whether or not I'm a good lawyer."

Raphael grinned at her, "I'm sure your good at everything you do Theresa."

There was a tenderness in his voice, and Theresa found herself wishing he would just stay.

"Sweet talker."

She said, her eyes soft as she looked at him. There was another moment of tension as they stared at each other. Raphael caught himself leaning towards her, his eyes flicking to her moist lips. He shook his head as if to clear it and turned abruptly to lower the ladder.

"Goodnight Theresa."

He said, studying her face one last time before placing his feet on the ladder.

"Goodnight Raphael."

Theresa called quietly as he climbed down the fire escape.

She watched as he went to the manhole and opened it. He gave her one last final wave before he disappeared down into it. Theresa went and retrieved the broken mop and wedged it into the top of the window, testing it to make sure it wouldn't budge. She then took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and dressed in an oversized night shirt. It was only when she was lying in her bed, her head resting heavily on her soft pillow, that she allowed herself to think about the night's events and Raphael.

It was, she decided, with a large smile on her face, the best date she'd ever had.

And she thought as she drifted off to sleep, _'It was a date.'_

_**xxx**_

It was later that night, when the moon was covered by dark clouds, that a noise brought Theresa gradually out of her slumber. She didn't open her eyes right away but tried to discern the sound in her half sleep.

There was a quiet; _Thump, thump, thump_.

She was so tired, and all she really wanted to do was fall back into a deep dreamless slumber.

But the noise continued; _thump, thump, thump._

She felt groggy, and fatigue had been clawing at her all day. Her heavy eye lids didn't seem to be able to open.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Theresa's eyes opened in thin slits, peering blurrily in the direction of the noise. A figure, a shadow really, was standing on her fire escape, trying with no avail to open her window.

_Thump, thump, thump._

The mop was preventing the window to slide open, causing the quiet thumping noise as it hit the top of the casement. This all registered into Theresa's mind slowly, and then very quickly.

Theresa sat up in her bed stalk straight, causing the human figure to stop his useless prying on the window and look at her. He was wearing the same gray sweater as the night before, his hood pulled up so she couldn't see his face. He raised a hand and pointed to her, then made a slashing gesture across his neck.

Theresa opened her mouth, and screamed.

_**xxx**_

**A/N:** Well, in case you didn't know, all the movies that Raphael called off were films that Humphrey Bogart starred in. The African Queen won him an Academy Award, and I certainly recommend it to anyone who likes a classic movie.

Anyway, feedback would be great; I really love this story but it's a bit disheartening when no one reviews. Except for Lola Hard, of course, who is the greatest reviewer _EVER_. I'll have to write you something special as a gift.

Now, off to the review board with you… no flames though!!!


	6. Chapter Six, Protector and Enforcer

_**Chapter Six: The Protector and the Enforcer**_

_**xxx**_

Theresa kept screaming. It was all she could do. Fear was welling up inside of her and it was keeping her paralyzed, frozen like a statue on her bed. The figure began pounding on the window, slamming his fists into the glass with heavy blows.

It was then that Theresa realized that she would _not_ die like this. She would not sit and wait in her bed for a madman to break into her apartment and finish what he had failed to do the night before.

Like a rabbit she bolted out of her bed, grabbing the cordless phone on her nightstand as she rushed out of her room. The pounding was echoing in her ears like a drum, and it made her move all the faster. She thought she could hear glass breaking and hurtled herself into her bathroom as she came to it.

Theresa slammed the door shut and turned the lock in a hurry. Without hesitation she dialed the first number that popped into her head, moving to the back of the bathroom and sliding down to the floor, leaning against her tub. She took a steadying breath and then held it as the phone began to ring.

She didn't even stop to think that she had already memorized the number.

_**xxx**_

It was Michelangelo who heard the ringing.

He was surprised, thinking that he'd been imagining things when he had heard the sharp sound. He had been sitting in the kitchen, unable to sleep from the nightmare he'd been having, so he was able to reach the phone by the third piercing ring.

"Hello?" He asked into the receiver.

There was a lot of heavy breathing on the other line before he heard, "Raphael? Is that you?"

Michelangelo furrowed his brows, taking a quick glance at the wall clock, it read 3:15.

"This is Michelangelo, who's this?"

Mikey thought that he could hear some noise in the back ground and strained to hear it. It sounded like breaking glass.

"Michelangelo! It's Theresa, please get Raphael. Someone is breaking into my apartment. I think it's the same guy from last night!" There was panic in her voice, followed by a forced calm.

Michelangelo's eye's widened. "Shit, hold on one sec."

Michelangelo put the phone to his shoulder and yelled at the top of his lungs, **"Raph!** **Get up, it's Theresa! She's in trouble!"**

He could hear a loud thump, movement, and some swearing from Raphael's area. It was only a moment before he was clambering out of his room, looking tired and confused.

"What the hell Mikey? What's goin' on?"

Michelangelo put the phone back to his ear. "Theresa, you still there?" he asked.

Raphael looked alert at the sound of her name and watched Michelangelo intensely.

There was more heavy breathing. "I'm still here. I can hear someone moving inside my house." She whispered, sounding panicked.

"I'm going to give Raph the phone now." Michelangelo said, feeling a sickness building up inside of him and threatening to spill out.

Raphael snatched the phone from his brother and held it to his ear. "Theresa, what's wrong?" he asked, feeling the blood drain out of him and leave him numb.

"Raphael, there's someone in my house! I think… it _has_ to be the same guy from last night. He was trying to get into the window and I woke up. I could hear him breaking the glass and now I think he's in my apartment!"

Raphael's ears were ringing. "Theresa, call the police, I'll be right over. As soon as you get off the phone with 911 call back here and talk to Mikey, ok?"

It took what seemed like a lifetime for Theresa to answer, but in reality was only a few moments.

"I'll call 911, and then I'll call back… Raphael, please hurry."

It was plea, a prayer really, and Raphael knew it.

"I won't let anything happen to you Theresa. Call the police." Raphael said in all sincerity, hoping that it wouldn't become a lie.

He hung up the phone hating that he had to, but knowing that he needed to get to Theresa's apartment, and fast. Leonardo was now standing beside Michalangelo, looking concerned.

"What's going on?" He asked, eye ridges knitted.

"I've gotta go. Mikey, stay by the phone, she's gonna call back and you need to talk to her till either me or the police get there." Raphael said, ignoring Leonardo's question.

Michelangelo shook his head, "I'm going with you. Leo can answer the phone."

Raphael looked at him, debating weather or not to waste time fighting him on this. He had an inkling of why Mikey wanted to come with him, but he didn't have time to speculate.

He turned to Leonardo, "Theresa's gonna call, someone is in her house. Talk to her till the police get there. This is important Leo."

Leonardo looked solemnly at his reckless brother and nodded. "Be safe." He said, hoping that Raphael and Michelangelo wouldn't go and do something stupid, like get themselves killed.

_**xxx**_

Theresa could hear footsteps. They were heavy and foreboding and they caused a shiver to run down her spine. Theresa's shaking hands dialed 911 and her voice cracked as she told the operator her situation. The operator then urged her to stay on the line, but Theresa hung up hastily, hoping the action would cause the police officers to arrive quicker.

She again dialed the number for the lair, no longer hearing the footsteps outside the bathroom door. After the first ring the phone was answered.

"Hello?" A voice asked.

Theresa gulped down a lot of air, fighting back tears. "Is this Mikey?" She asked, her voice small.

"No, this is Leonardo, Raphael's brother. Mikey is going with Raph to your house, they already left."

Theresa sighed in relief. "Okay, do you think they'll be here soon?"

"I think that they left in an awful hurry. They'll probably be there before the cops."

Theresa nodded, even though no one could see her.

"Are you alright? Can you still hear anything?" Leonardo asked.

There was a pause as Theresa strained to hear any sound from outside her door. There was nothing.

"I can't hear a thing." She whispered, her voice raspy.

"Alright, just stay calm. Here, let's talk about something…"

Leonardo was trying to ease her panic, he'd heard the fright and terror in her voice.

Again Theresa nodded, her breath coming in short stabs, before answering, "Okay… okay what do you want to talk about?"

Another stretch of silence. What _did_ Leonardo want to talk about? He didn't even know this girl. In fact, he had been campaigning so that he _wouldn't_ have to know this girl. He had a black eye to prove it!

"Umm…Well… how was your dinner with Raph tonight?" He asked, feeling stupid for asking (which was not an ordinary emotion for him to be dealing with).

"It was really nice." Theresa answered, and Leo could have sworn that that simple question had clamed her down considerably.

"Really? Why so good?" He inquired, truly interested in what her answer could possibly be.

"Oh…I don't know. Raphael is good company." Theresa replied, and Leonardo had to hold back a snort of incongruity. When in his whole life had Raphael been _good company_? Perhaps in battles and skirmishes. And from time to time good for a laugh or a punching bag (or someone else's punching bag). But for companionship? Maybe Raph and Mikey, or even Raph and Don. But very rarely Raph and Leo.

"Huh. Well…" There was a long pause. This was not Leonardo's forte, talking about Raphael. He was always trying to talk _to_ his brothers, lecture his brother, complain about his brother. But not just talk _about_ him, and certainly not with complete strangers. Not sit and… what did girls on TV call it? _Dish._

It seemed that Raphael was indeed going to be the main topic of conversation, however, seeing as Theresa seemed particularly keen on it.

"What's he like? At home, I mean." She asked, her voice almost void of fear, save a tiny shade of it still lurking in her rasping throat.

"Ummm…. He's, well he's…"

Argumentative, moody, confrontational, waspish, cranky, sarcastic, cynical, irritable, mocking, and pugnacious- to say the very least.

"He's our brother." Leonardo settled on, not wanting to alarm her.

"Hmm, yes but what's he like?"

Leonardo sighed. When in the world would his brothers get there? Or the police for heavens sakes?

"He's… he's alright. I mean, of course he's alright. He's just… _Raph_. You know? He's good with people… most of the time. Him and Amy really like each other. But, um… me and him, we don't agree on a lot of things. I'm not sure that I'm the one you want to be asking."

There it was. They didn't get along. She could take a hint, right?

Apparently not.

"Why don't you get along?" She asked.

Leonardo sighed. He had agreed to talk to her, that much was true, but he had not agreed to a session of therapy. He had gotten plenty of that from Sensei through the years.

"Its not that we don't get along…" _Who was he kidding?_ "But we just… don't agree. I'm more of a strategizer, and Raph… he's…"

What was a nice way he could put it? "He's hot tempered? Um, he likes to just jump into something without thinking…"

Was he saying 'um' a lot? It felt like he was saying 'um' a lot.

"Um… yeah." Leonardo was at a loss for words. The great lecturer, king of all things considered unnecessary and redundant, was at a loss for words. Who cared about Raph anyway?

_Unless…_

Before he could ask, before he could even utter a question, Theresa let out a sudden gasp.

"Oh! Someone is in my house!"

Theresa strained to hear, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. Fear that she was hearing whoever it was that had broken into her home, and hope that she was hearing Raphael and Michelangelo.

It was the latter, of course. Her door knob rattled noisily before she heard a voice call out, "Theresa? You in there?"

Forgetting that the phone was still to her ear, she breathed out, "Raphael."

"Is he there?" Leonardo asked.

"Oh! He's here Leonardo, thank you so much."

"Not a problem." Leo answered. "Oh and Theresa, you can call me Leo."

The phone went dead before Theresa could answer.

_**xxx**_

Raphael looked at Michelangelo. "Go and see if there isn't someone suspicious lurking around. Gray sweater prob'ly. You know what to do if you find him."

Michelangelo gave the vaguest of nods and headed back to the fire escape, jumping off the top rail and landing noiselessly on his feet.

Raphael turned his attention to the unlocking door. It swung open, and there was Theresa, looking tired and tear stained, and smiling ear to ear at the sight of him.

"Raph." She said, shortening his name for the first time since they'd met. And then she was in his arms, her arms around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder.

He stood there for a moment, not knowing how to react, but he eventually wrapped his arms awkwardly around her. He wanted nothing more then to grasp her tighter, but he held back. This was all too… _confusing_.

"Oh my God, you have no idea how happy I am to see you." Theresa said against his shoulder, her voice muffled and quiet.

There was a short pause before Raphael asked, "How did you know it was me?"

Theresa looked up at him. "Hmmm…?"

Her eyes narrowed at his face as he looked down at her, and then she let out a little, "Oh!"

Raphael smirked.

"You're not wearing your mask!' Theresa said.

Without a thought her slim hand reached up and touched the side of his face, smooth and unhidden.

Raphael sucked in air through his nose and went ridged at her touch.

"How did you know it was me?" He asked again, and if his voice was a bit huskier than usual, Theresa didn't seem to notice. Instead she kept right on staring at his face, inspecting it without the mask for the first time.

"I don't know, your voice, I guess… But when I saw you, I just knew…" Her voice trailed off and her hand stopped its light touching over his face. She looked into his eyes and it was as though she suddenly realized what she had been doing.

Her hand jerked away quickly, and she took a step back, out of his arms.

"Sorry." She said, her eyes diverted to the floor.

"S'ok."

Theresa looked up at him through thick lashes. "I like it that way… without the bandanna. Um… it just looks… I don't know."

There was a self-conscious silence between them and a lot of shuffling feet, before Raphael cleared his throat.

"I'm going to take a look through your apartment. Stay here." He said turning and walking down the hall to her living room.

Raphael knew the search was as pointless as looking for monsters under the bed. Theresa's attacker was no longer in the apartment, and Raph knew it. He'd have seen him, smelt him, heard him, _something_. But there was nothing, only the obvious evidence that he had left. Hopefully Michelangelo had caught up with him.

Raphael walked back to Theresa, "The police are gonna be here any second. I'll wait by the window until they come, then I'm out on the roof. When they leave, I'll be right here."

Theresa nodded and took a shaky breath. "You'll come back, right? As soon as the police leave?"

Raphael was looking seriously at her now, "As _soon_ as the police leave." He reintegrated, stressing each word and leaving no room for doubt. Theresa walked him back to her bedroom, but stopped just short of entering. Glass was everywhere around her window, and she stared at it in growing horror.

"Raphael." She whispered, her voice becoming tight.

Raphael turned and looked at her, standing in the middle of her bedroom.

"This… this wasn't some random thing was it? This person… he picked me for a reason…"

Theresa's shaky hand reached up to touch her lips and Raphael took the few steps to stand in front of her.

"You don't smoke, do you." He said, not making it a question.

"Huh? No… What?" Theresa looked up at him, confused.

Raphael sighed, "Earlier tonight, when I was coming in through your window, I noticed cigarette butts on your fire escape… you don't smoke though. So that means…" He looked at her pointedly.

Theresa's eyes were wide, "It means someone's been watching me."

She drew a shaky breath. "Raph, I don't even go out on the fire escape… I- I don't like heights… Oh my God…"

Raphael thought she looked close to a nervous break down and took hold of her shoulders.

"Listen, calm down. This is fixable. You know me now, right?"

Theresa nodded, biting her lip and keeping her eyes diverted.

"So then I'll take care of this. There's a reason we met, I'll fix this."

Theresa looked at him now, her eyes still big. "Promise?"

Raphael looked grave. "I'm going to fix this." He said.

They looked at each other, and Theresa knew that he meant what he said, that her life was quite literally in his hands.

The moment was broken by a sharp knocking on the door followed by a gruff voice calling through, "Police!"

Raphael let go of her shoulders "Gotta go. I'll be right on the roof, as soon as they leave-"

"You'll be here, I know. Go, hurry." Theresa said, giving him a light push towards the window.

Raphael jumped swiftly onto the window ledge, avoiding the glass on the floor completely. He watched from the fire escape as Theresa answered the door for the police, and then made his way to the roof.

Michelangelo was waiting for him.

"Anything?" He asked as the cold night air hit him.

Michelangelo clenched his jaw, his orange mask ties fluttering around his head. "Nothing." he said bitterly.

Raphael sighed. "The police are down there, we'll head back when the cruiser leaves." he said, looking out at the police car parked at the curb, its lights still flashing.

Michelangelo nodded, then after a moment said, "This is crazy Raph. Who… who does this shit? I mean, what sick freak…" The younger brother stopped, his jaw muscles working furiously and his fists clenching and unclenching.

"Mike, calm down." Raphael said, eyeing his brother warily. Since when had he ever been the one to tell his brother to _calm down_?

"Fuck." Michelangelo spat, beginning to pace a small area of the roof.

Raphael watched him, unsure of what to say.

Michelangelo stopped pacing and turned narrowed eyes to Raphael.

"This… this is bull. I'm gonna kill this guy… I'm… I swear. Ugh!" Michelangelo swung out and hit one of the large vents that were placed on the roof, a reverberating sound echoing through the city's own commotion.

Raphael kept his face impassive, but it was hard to do so. Michelangelo was angry, in a fit of temper that could rival Raphael on one of his bad days. He had seen his brother mad, upset, but this was different, this was _red._ It was the blinding anger that only made you see one color, made you do things that you might regret later. This was not a side he had seen often from his baby brother. Only twice, actually.

"We're gonna fix this. I am, you are. Us. He's cant have her Mikey. He made a mistake coming back here, and now we know. It's only a matter of time, and we'll finish this."

Michelangelo looked at Raphael, his jaw still working, but breathed out in agreement.

"Fine. But when it does come, when we find him, I get to do it. He's mine."

Raphael looked at his brother, and it took everything in him not to shake his head in sadness. When had this happened? When had it been Michelangelo that was the one who would _take care of it_? His baby brother was a killer.

"I don't know Mikey… just, just wait."

Michelangelo shook his head vehemently and reached out to grab Raphael's shoulder.

"No Raph. It's me. Not you, not Leo, not Don. Me. This is different from killing a Foot ninja or the Shredder or a Purple Dragon. This is murder. There isn't anything honorable about this. It's me Raph. I'm the one who takes care of this."

Raphael shoved Michelangelo back, his own jaw now working furiously.

"Cut it out Mike." He said gruffly.

"No, I'm serious. Say it's me Raph."

They stared at each other, both refusing to back down.

"Cut it out Mikey. Just because Jade-"

"Shut up! Fuck you Raph. You think this is because of Jade, well fuck you. Maybe it is, I don't fucking care."

Raphael growled. He did _not_ like being cussed at.

"Shut up Mike. Just because Jade is _dead_," Michelangelo blanched as he said this, "doesn't mean you get to act like an asshole."

"Oh _I'm_ the asshole? You know what Raph, Jade _is_ dead. She's dead. I never get to see her again… I wasted so much time without her."

Michelangelo sucked in a breath, his voice becoming strained.

"I don't _ever_ get to see her again Raph. No one gets it. She's _gone_. I… we broke up, and I though I missed her then. But it's nothing, _nothing_ compared to this. She's… _she's in the ground._ She doesn't laugh or smile or cry. She's _just dead_."

Each brother looked at the other. Michelangelo suddenly looked very lost and sad, and Raphael wasn't sure what to say.

"Mike. We've always been here. You didn't have to do this alone."

"What could you do?" Michelangelo asked.

"We could have helped." Raphael answered.

"How? How could you have helped? What, you would have lent a shoulder to cry on? Leo would have made some big long speech that was supposed to enlighten me about death. And Don could have… Shit. Don could have done something. Made a time machine so I could go back and save her." Michelangelo shook his head.

"There was nothing any of you could do. There's _still_ nothing any of you can do. You don't get it. I… I couldn't save her. I couldn't make her stay alive. I got there, and that guy was out the window, and she just wouldn't breath. All she had to do was take in air. But she was pale… _and I couldn't make her breath_."

Michelangelo looked at Raphael, his big blue eyes glassy. "That's what will happen to Theresa, Raph, if you don't save her. She won't breath. You'll find her pale, and cold, and no matter what you do, she won't breath."

Raphael's eyes were wide, his eye ridges raised high in alarm.

Michelangelo sighed and looked seriously at his older brother. "So don't talk to me about being an asshole Raph. When you find this guy who's stalking her, its me. Because if its not, if _you_ kill him, then you wont be able to live with it. I know it seems stupid, but when I caught up with Jade's… When I killed him… I didn't even care. Jade wasn't breathing, so he didn't get to either. It was that simple. It won't be the same for you. Emotions… they'll get in the way."

Raphael took a deep breath, "I don't get it Mikey… We've all killed…"

"Not this way… This is different. Just… just say it's me Raph. If you change your mind, then we'll cross that bridge. But for now, just say it's me."

Raphael looked down at the ground then back up at his brother.

"It's you." He conceded in a whisper.

Michelangelo sighed in relief. "Okay."

They stood on the roof in silence after that, neither saying anything, but both deep in thought.

Finally Michelangelo broke the hush that had fallen between them. "Look, the cruiser is leaving."

Sure enough, the squad car was pulling away from the curb. Raphael headed over to the edge of the roof and lowered himself down to the fire escape. Mikey followed.

As they reached Theresa's platform they could see her inside her bedroom, the phone pressed to her ear as she paced beside her bed. She looked up at them as they entered though the window, still avoiding the glass strewn on the floor.

"Mom, I'm fine." She was saying into the phone. "Mom… no Mom, you don't need to come over."

Raphael could vaguely hear the female voice on the other line, sharp and concerned.

"Mom… Mom listen. The Police made me call you, you don't need to drive all the way out here to get me, I have friends here that are going to help me out…"

Theresa stopped pacing and listened into the phone.

"No Mom, Dad doesn't need to come out here either. Mom! I know you're worried but-"

Raphael could hear the talking on the other end of the phone line get slightly louder.

"Oh Mom, don't be like that. Of course you should be worried, but I have a place to stay. Everything's fine… Mom. I know Mom…"

Theresa looked at Raphael and rolled her eyes.

"Mom, my friends just got here. If you come, I won't even be here." Theresa made a face at Raphael.

"No Mom… No I don't think… Well we just met but… No!!"

Theresa's eyes widened and she looked at Raphael.

"Mom I don't think it's such a good idea that you talk to him. No… Mom he's fine but…"

Raphael was shaking his head and Theresa looked at him, helpless.

"_Mom_… okay! Here."

The telephone was shoved into Raphael's face. He glared at Theresa before taking the phone and putting it to his ear.

'_Sorry'_ Theresa mouthed.

Raphael shook his head and spoke into the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hello? Who is this?" Asked a female voice on the opposite line.

"I'm Raphael. Theresa's _friend_." Raphael glared at her pointedly, as if to say, _friends don't let friends talk to their mothers._

Theresa had the decency to look sheepish, even though she was trying to hide an ill concealed grin. Michelangelo, however, wasn't trying to hide his smile at all. In fact, he was very close to the point of laughter.

"Well Raphael, how long have you known my daughter?"

"Uh… two days?"

There was a long pause.

"_Two days?_ Hold on."

Raphael heard the woman yell out, "Dan! Get down here and talk to this man. He says he's known Theresa for _two days_…"

Raphael's eyes widened. "She's getting your Dad! Take the phone!"

Theresa took a quick step back. "Huh-uh, not me. You talk to him."

"What! He's your Dad!"

"Yeah but he wants to talk to you!"

"No way! Take the phone or I swear to God I'll… Hi Mr. Colden!"

Raphael looked suddenly very stoic, his posture stiff and his lips tight.

"You've known my daughter two days?" The man's deep voice asked.

"Well, yeah, but-"

"This makes you qualified to take care of her in moment of crisis then? Tell me, what do you do?"

Raphael's eyes ridges knitted in confusion, "What do I do?"

"For a living, what do you do? Are you a lawyer?" The man asked.

"Well no... I um… I'm a…" Should he say ninja? He looked around wildly for help.

"You're a…?"

"Private Investigator."

At this, Michelangelo began to laugh hysterically.

"Shut up." Raphael hissed at him.

"Did you just tell me to shut up?" The deep voice asked.

"What? No! I was talking to my brother."

"You have a brother? There with my daughter?"

"I have three brothers but Mike-"

"Three brothers… I see. And what do they do?"

Raphael glared at Michelangelo, who was still completely loosing it.

"Here sir, you can ask him."

The phone was jabbed into Michelangelo's chest, which immediately caused him to stop laughing, his eyes getting big.

"What! Oh umm, hello?"

"Are you Mike?"

"Uh, yeah, that's me."

"And how do you know my daughter?"

Michelangelo looked at Theresa, completely lost. "We uh, we met through work…"

"Through work. And are you a Private Investigator also?"

Michelangelo choked back laughter, "Yeah… I'm a P.I. It's a family business…" He said, his voice wavering.

"Is there something funny?"

"No sir, nothing funny I just… ummm…"

Theresa rolled her eyes. "Give me the phone Mikey."

Michelangelo acquiesced quickly, getting rid of the phone like it was on fire.

"Daddy? Listen, their fine, everything's fine."

"You keep saying fine. Listen sweetie, I know you're a big girl," Theresa rolled her eyes, "but these guys sound a little ruff. Why don't you just let me come over and get you? Your mother will make us some tea, and we'll sort this all out."

"No Dad! Listen, besides being my friends… um, well, their Private Investigators, and there going to look for the guy who did this."

Theresa dropped her voice and carefully avoided the two pairs of eyes watching her, "Dad… he saved me, okay. I'm safe with him."

There was a loud sigh from her father on the opposite end. "Call me in the morning?" He asked.

"Of course."

They exchanged I love you's before the call was finished. Theresa hung up the phone and looked up at Raphael.

"_Private Investigators?"_ She asked with raised brows.

"Hey, I almost said Ninja okay. It was this close to comin' outta my mouth." Raphael gestured just how close it was by barely separating two fingers.

Theresa felt her eyes rolling again. "Okay Cagney, what's the game plan?"

Raphael didn't laugh at her joke. "We need to clean up this place, seal up your window, and then hunker down."

Theresa sucked in a breath, "We're staying here?" She asked.

Raphael nodded. "I don't think that guy will come back, but if he does, it will be better that we're here."

Michelangelo nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we'll take shifts till morning, stay in your room, wait him out. Sometimes they come back to the crime scene… but I don't know. Depends on how stupid this guy is."

Theresa looked back and forth between them. "Sometimes they come back… really? I mean I know they come back but… we're really staying here? You know it's entirely possible that my father was placating me and he'll be here in an hour."

"Sounded like you took care of him." Raphael said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Anyway, we'll only be here tonight, then you can go down to the lair in the morning. Do you have to make a police report?"

Theresa nodded, "Yeah, they said if I just went down to the station they could put it off till tomorrow."

"Okay, so we'll escort you to the police station, and then you can come back to the lair."

Theresa raised her eyebrows. "I have other things I need to do tomorrow."

Michelangelo looked between the two, their voices beginning to rise, and took a step back.

"Well they'll have to wait, I'm sure you understand that there's a stalker tryin' to _kill _you, right?" Raphael said, his words clipped.

"In broad daylight Raphael? And what if it takes months to find this guy? I _do_ have a job you know."

Raphael glared at her. "So we'll follow you to and from work. You'll stay at the lair at night."

"Like hell I will! Besides the fact that I have a place to live already, how are you going to follow me around? Its not like you can exactly walk around unnoticed."

"So? Stealth _is_ an asset I posses."

"Stealth in the middle of the day? You know, besides going to the office, I go to the court house, interview witnesses, have luncheons and dinners with clients, drive to the prison, drive to neighboring county's, run errands, gather evidence, and do an awful lot of other basic day to day things that do not have room in them for big hot headed turtles."

Raphael made a face. "Hot headed? You've been talkin' to Leo."

Michelangelo took another step back.

"Well he was right, you _are_ hot headed. You can't just follow me around everyday. I have a client sitting in jail and I need to figure out a way to get him out." Theresa growled, hands on hips.

"We'll break him out tonight." Raphael said simply, crossing his arms, and Theresa wasn't sure if he was being serious or not.

"Oh ha, ha. Listen to me. I need to go talk to his friends, his family, potential witnesses. We've got a partner at the firm who's on vacation so I've been helping pick up the slack, and with me being gone until Monday the work is just piling up. This weekend would be a great time for me to go and try to dig some things up. You can't just keep me in your lair and hope to catch this guy. If he's a stalker, he'll be following me. Wouldn't it be easier to catch him if I went out like everything was ok?"

Raphael chewed on his cheek. He was being unreasonable, he knew. "Okay, fine. You can go out and do… whatever it is that you have to do."

"Thank you."

"_But_, tomorrow you're stayin' with us, that way we can get this place freak-proofed, and you can be safe when I'm not around. And until we get this guy, I'll be there. In the car, outside your work, and if I can't be there next to you, I'll be close by. This isn't going to happen again. The next time this guy strikes, I'll be there to stop him."

They looked at one another, both equally as stubborn.

"Fine." Theresa said finally, throwing her hands in the air.

She turned and left the room, missing the lopsided grin Raphael threw at Michelangelo.

Mikey shook his head. "Your both nuts."

Raphael gave a bark of laughter before turning to the glass strewn floor. "Let's get this cleaned up."

_**xxx **_

Author's note: Hi ya'll! (Waves enthusiastically) I've missed you!

This chapter was a lot of fun. It was supposed to go one way, and then my fingers took me to an entirely different place. I like the way it turned out though, and I hope you're happy.

Next chapter; the big family talk! It's not titled that or anything, that's just what's next…

Oh and, you know, go review… :)


	7. Chapter Seven, The Betrayal of Judas

_**Chapter Seven: The Betrayal of Judas**_

_**xxx**_

Names. He had some names.

Raphael and Michelangelo.

And while he wasn't sure who they were, or what kind of parents would stick their children with those kinds of titles, he still had the names.

And that Raphael… that voice and the way Theresa had spoken to him, he was thinking that he was the one who had saved her. The one who was responsible for his blackened face and his soar and slow moving body.

"_I won't let anything happen to you Theresa. Call the police." _

That's what he had said over the phone. And he'd sounded so sure. What if he had know that he was listening to this touching conversation? What would he have said if he had know that right in the other room, standing in Theresa's kitchen, he had picked up the phone to listen to who she was calling.

He was surprised to find out that it wasn't the police she had called, that instead, when he'd picked up the line, he'd heard a skater type voice talking to her. Yelling at the top of his lungs, _**"Raph!**__**Get up, it's Theresa! She's in trouble!"**_

And he'd sounded scared. Afraid that something was going to happen to her. What if he'd spoken then? Told them that he was just in the other room, and that they could listen while he killed her. It wouldn't have been so hard to jimmy that bathroom lock, he'd done it before, after all.

But no, they still sounded dangerous, and they were going to come over. He could use this information, somehow, and he wouldn't waste it all now. He would take his time. This was going to be fun, almost like a game.

He would use these people, whoever they were, and bring them into this game he'd started. They were pieces, figures to move around the board until he had them where he wanted them. He would take them apart, and in the end, they would be dead to.

And Theresa would have to wait, have to sit scared and alone until the day he finally came for her.

_Let the games begin… _

_**xxx**_

Theresa opened bleary eyes. Where was she? It looked a little like her apartment, from what she could make out, but it didn't feel like her bed. It felt like…

_The couch._

Theresa groaned and hid her face in the arm rest. Breaking glass, the phone conversation with her parents, private investigators. It was all coming back to her now. Her life was beginning to feel like one morning flashback after another.

She needed coffee, or a shower. Actually, she needed both.

Kicking off the quilt that had tangled around her feet she stumbled off the couch, wincing as she stood. Her back was killing her.

'_Note to self, try not to sleep on TV remotes…'_

Her feet dragged to the adjoining kitchen, and she stopped just short of entering as she looked up.

Raphael smiled at her from the table, a steaming mug in front of him and an annoying look of being completely well rested.

"Coffee?" She asked, her voice still groggy.

Raphael looked down at his mug then shook his head, "Tea. I aint much of a coffee person…"

Theresa groaned and began shuffling down the hall. Ignoring him would be easier than talking this early. He was saying something to her, but she couldn't wrap her brain around what was coming out of his mouth. Something about the bathroom… It was too early to try and figure it out.

As she reached the bathroom door she flung it open without a thought, and there standing in front of her, was a very wet, very naked, Michelangelo.

He jumped as the door hit the wall and his eyes became as large as saucers.

"Holy shit!" he yelped, reaching over and practically tearing a towel off the rack, covering himself from the waist down.

"Uh… sorry…" Theresa stood there, looking at him like he was completely foreign, her eyes as wide as his.

"_Don't you knock?"_ Michelangelo asked incredulously, his voice strained.

Theresa, her brain finally catching up with what her eyes had just seen, had the decency to blush.

"Oh God… okay, leaving now." She said, placing a hand over her face as she turned and made her way back down the hall.

Raphael, she realized, had been telling her _not _to go into the bathroom…

As she re-entered the kitchen, Raphael smirked at her. "See something you like?" he asked.

Theresa gaped at him, her eyes still wide. "He was naked!" she hissed.

Raphael laughed, "We're always naked…"

"No! No he was naked, like… I saw _everything_."

Raphael raised his eye ridges. "Everything… You mean…?"

Theresa nodded emphatically, "Yes I _mean_. He was just standing there, and it was… you know… there…"

Raphael made a face. "Ugh. Don't finish that. Mike's retarded…. Just…Uh."

Theresa looked at him, her eyes still wide "… That was… different. Yeah. Ummm… Is it always..." Theresa blushed. "Never mind…"

Raphael narrowed his eyes at her. "Is it always what?"

"Nothing! I'm going to make some coffee."

Raphael's slighted eyes followed her as she made her way to the kitchen.

It was then that Michelangelo made his entrance, still tying his bandanna at the back of his head.

"Sorry Theresa." He mumbled, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the room as he took a seat across from his brother.

Raphael turned his narrowed eyes to Michelangelo.

"What the hell man?"

Michelangelo groaned, "Dude, I _just_ stepped outta the shower. How was I supposed to know she was gonna walk in. I was sort of… air drying…"

There was the sound of a snort before it was muffled, and they both turned to look at Theresa. Her eyes were fixed on scooping the coffee into the filter, but she was biting her lip so hard it looked like she might draw blood.

Raphael shook his head and turned back to his little brother.

"_Air drying_… You do that too?"

Another choking snort could be heard from the kitchen and the two brothers only spared a cursory glance at her this time.

"Best way dude. Gotta get a breeze while you can…"

"Okay! Enough. Everyone stop… talking. I can't… Just stop." Theresa threw up her hands and walked quickly down the hall.

"I'll be in the bathroom." She said, her voice flat.

They waited until they heard the bathroom door slam shut before Michelangelo looked at Raphael.

"You think she air dries?" He asked, a slow smile spreading over his face.

"Shut up Mikey."

_**xxx**_

The trip to the station had been highly uneventful. Theresa, whose car was parked in the small lot behind the apartment complex, opted instead for walking.

"You said you had stealth, prove it. I walk a lot. I walk home, I walk to the court house, and sometimes I walk for no reason at all. So be stealthy, I want to see how this is going to work."

Raphael smirked and Michelangelo gave a light chuckle.

"Fine." Raphael had said, and he was gone in a flash, leaving her standing by herself in the alleyway outside her apartment as he and Michelangelo made their way to the roof.

Theresa had stood there a moment, looking at his barley noticeable figure above her.

"Show off." She'd mumbled, before turning and making her way down the side walk.

She hadn't seen them again for another two hours, no matter how hard she had searched the area. Theresa knew without a doubt that they were there though, prowling in the shadows.

She'd gone to the police station, feeling out of place in tennis shoes and jeans instead of her usual pant suits, and gave an official report to the two detectives taking on her case.

She wasn't stupid though. No matter now much they said they were on it, the NYPD was just too overworked. And an attorney complaining about a possible stalker, no matter how serious it was, took second place to homicides and kidnappings.

She was back in the alleyway by her apartment now, looking up at the roof for Raphael.

He landed silently behind her, and shook his head at her exposed back. Quietly, he reached his hand around her and clamped it over her mouth, pulling her against him.

Theresa immediately began to struggle, trying to scream through his closed hand.

"Shhh… its me. We really need to work on you self defense." He said in her ear, before releasing her and taking a step back.

Theresa turned to look at him, her face red.

"That was _not_ funny." She said trough clenched teeth.

"It wasn't supposed to be." Raphael said simply, shrugging.

Theresa reached out and punched his arm.

"Ass."

"Ow! Hey, I was just trying to help you out!" He said, rubbing his shoulder.

"Yeah well, try to be a little less helpful. Where's Mikey?"

As if on cue, Michelangelo landed behind her. Theresa turned and looked at him, then looked quickly away. She hadn't quite forgotten about that mornings little episode.

"Okay… now what?" She asked, trying to keep the tension out of her voice.

"Now we go to the lair." Raphael answered, walking to the manhole.

"We're just leaving my window like that? I mean, saran wrap isn't going to keep a burglar from stealing my TV."

Theresa looked up at her apartment. Last night they had covered her exposed window with her spare Glad, and she wasn't thinking it would be a good idea to leave her dwelling for a long period of time.

"I don't exactly live in a great area… I could be cleaned out by morning…"

Michelangelo gave a toothy smile, "We could always take the TV." He said hopefully. He had been just as impressed by the flat screen as Raphael.

Raphael smiled but shook his head. "How we gonna fit it through the manhole genius?"

Michelangelo's face fell. "Oh, yeah."

"Not like it would have been an option anyway." Theresa mumbled.

Raphael sighed, "Lets go, I'll talk to Donny."

Theresa looked at him questioningly.

"He'll be able to do something about your window… I was thinkin' he could install some surveillance anyway. You can call a repair place from the lair, I think it'll be ok fer' a few hours." Raphael explained.

Theresa nodded, choosing not to fight him about surveillance. It wasn't like it would be forever.

"You know," she said, "the longer I know you, the more you really do sound like a private investigator."

She sighed, and Raphael glared at Michelangelo as he began to snicker.

"Okay, let's get out of here. I'll get cloths in the morning. I just want to get this over with…"

"Geez, the thought of staying with us is that bad?" Michelangelo said.

Theresa gave a small smile, "No offence, but I like being in my own place. The sooner that window gets fixed, the better."

Michelangelo reached down and lifted the manhole. "I understand that. I think it would be nice, living on my own."

He jumped down into the sewer and offered his hand to Theresa. She took it and maneuvered her way down the ladder, Raphael following behind her and closing the manhole.

"Really?" She asked as she stepped into the murky water.

Michelangelo nodded. "Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love living with my brothers, but sometimes… I dunno. I think, that after twenty four yeas, I deserve a little place of my own."

They walked side by side, and Raphael lagged behind and watched them, listening to the conversation with growing interest.

"That makes sense. Why don't you move out?"

Michelangelo laughed. "And go where? Not exactly like I can go and fill out an apartment application. And how would I pay for it? I love bein' a turtle, but it does have its limitations."

Theresa nodded and reached over to pat his shoulder. "It will all turn out right. You're an adult, no matter where you live, and one day you'll get to at least live like one."

She moved her hand off his shoulder, and Michelangelo smiled down at her.

"Maybe." He said quietly.

They walked in silence for a while, the sloshing around their ankles the only thing that could be heard.

"When did you move out?" Michelangelo finally asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

"When I was eighteen. I went to college right after I graduated and roomed with one of my girlfriends. That was actually one of the best times of my life. We partied, studied… we were pretty wild."

Michelangelo smiled down at her. "Not you, you're all… stuffy."

Theresa's mouth fell open. "I'm not stuffy!" She exclaimed.

Michelangelo grinned. "Well, maybe not stuffy. But you're pretty serious. All work and no play."

Theresa rolled her eyes. "I got all my playing done at an early age, trust me. And besides, my work _is_ my play. I _like_ being a lawyer. Isn't their something that you like doing? Something you know you could do for the rest of your life?"

Michelangelo shrugged noncommittally. "I dunno… skateboarding?"

Theresa laughed. "Go figure you're the skater type. That's not what I meant though. Isn't their something… Oh I don't know, something like a job. You know, a skill that you could do for the rest of your life?"

"Skateboarding's a skill." Michelangelo complained.

Theresa shook her head, still smiling. "I'm not saying it isn't. But you know what I mean."

Michelangelo looked down at her. "I'm ninja."

Suddenly they had stopped walking, and Raphael had to catch himself from running into them.

"So… do you want to do that for the rest of your life?" Theresa asked looking up at him seriously now.

Michelangelo looked thoughtful, his eye ridges knitted. "I guess… not."

Raphael's eyes widened at his brothers response. When Theresa had asked Michelangelo the question, it had been clear to him what the answer should be. His own answer was that of his brothers. Ninja, sia's, hidden in the darkness, that was his life. Raphael loved what he did, and thinking about not doing it had never even crossed his mind.

Apparently it wasn't the same for Michelangelo.

His brother had suddenly moved very close to Theresa. Reaching an arm around her, he pulled the pipe that caused the entrance of the lair to slide open.

"But what else am I gonna do." He said simply, before maneuvering around her and entering the subway.

Theresa looked over at Raphael. "By the look on your face, I'm guessing that was news to you."

Raphael clamped his mouth shut and blew out a quick shot of air through his nose.

"My brother," he said, walking to her and throwing an arm around her shoulder, "has talked more in the three days I've know you than he has in five months."

"I wasn't trying to piss him off." Theresa said, casting a worried glance inside the lair.

"You know, usually I'd say that Mikey pissed is an… oxymoron? I think that's the right word. But lately…"

The look on Theresa's face made him smile. "Don't worry," he continued. "He likes you, you saw him naked."

Raphael steered her into the subway and laughed as she began to blush.

Leonardo and Donatello were waiting for them.

With an arm still around Theresa's shoulders, Raphael gave them a cocky smile.

"Ladies?"

Leonardo rolled his eyes, looking pointedly at Raphael, then to Michelangelo, who was currently rummaging through the kitchen cupboards.

Raphael looked confused, until Leonardo said in exasperation, "It's _Friday_."

A look of dawning etched itself onto Raphael's face. "Oh. Yeah…Theresa is here for the night…"

"We could wait, do this later." Donatello said, looking hopeful.

Leonardo looked over at him, "You really think this should wait?"

"No." Raphael said certainly, before Donatello could answer.

Theresa looked between them all, stepping out of Raphael's arm. "Well, I think I'm going to go to the kitchen. Let me know when you decide… whatever it is you're deciding."

She walked to the kitchen quickly, standing next to Michelangelo. She could hear the other three brothers talking quietly in the living room, but it was nothing she could make out.

Michelangelo spared a quick glance at her before continuing his foraging.

"You know, they all think I'm stupid. Like I didn't know they were planning this big talk." Mikey said, focusing entirely on his quest for food.

Theresa looked up at him, "They're planning on talking to you?"

"Yeah. They think it's all some big secret, like they're springin' it on me or somethin'."

"They're not?"

Michelangelo laughed. "Hell no. You know, walls aren't exactly thick in this place, I _do_ hear things."

Theresa raised here eyebrows at him.

"Well… maybe I had a little help. Amy did warn me that she thought they were up to something. Ah! Score!"

Michelangelo pulled out a box of fruit snacks, shaking them at her before taking a seat at the table. Theresa sat down across from him, looking over at the three turtles huddled in a circle in the living room.

"They are pretty obvious." She said, looking back at Michelangelo.

Michelangelo grinned and threw her a pack of Scooby Doo gummies.

"So, what do they want to talk to you about?" Theresa asked.

"I'm sure they want to talk about Jade." Michelangelo answered, making sure to avoid eye contact as he spoke.

Theresa nodded. "Your girlfriend. I hope you're not mad, Raph told me… a little."

Michelangelo looked up and gave her a sad smile. "Never mad at you kid."

He looked back down at the table, "Doesn't matter anyway." He muttered, popping a handful of the snacks in his mouth.

"Will you talk to them?" Theresa asked, watching him closely.

"I'd better. It's been long enough, I think. Besides, maybe after this they'll just leave me alone."

Michelangelo reached around and yanked off his bandanna, and Theresa though he looked more vulnerable by doing so. He seemed cheerless and old, much older than twenty four. But the eyes, the big, sad, blue eyes were the worst. Where they once might have looked innocent, they now seemed hardened. Like they had seen enough hurt, death, and anger, to last a lifetime.

Michelangelo looked at the woman across from him, and a bit of playfulness lit up in those heartrending eyes. He shot a look over at his brothers, who were wrapping up their conversation and making their way to the kitchen.

Michelangelo lowered his head towards Theresa and dropped his voice, a wicked smile covering his face.

"By the way," he whispered, "It really _is_ that big all the time. It actually hurts after awhile…"

It took a moment for Theresa to realize that he must have heard and understood what she'd been reluctant to ask Raphael earlier that morning. But when she did understand his meaning, she shot out of her chair, her cheeks burning furiously. She looked at Raphael as he came to stand beside her, her eyes wide.

"I'll be in your room… just, umm. Whenever you're done, I'm there."

She turned and walked quickly to Raphael's partition, sliding the door shut behind her in a hurry.

Raphael glared at Michelangelo, "What did you say?"

Michelangelo immediately took on a look of innocents. "I didn't say anything! She just had a question I know for a fact she wanted answered."

Raphael smirked, "Please, no one wants to hear you brag… we got enough of it as kids."

Leonardo made a face, "Ugh, not that again. Please Mikey, try to keep conversation with guests appropriate. She's not another guy you can compare your… whatever. She's not Casey. Just shut up Mike."

"Why's everyone always tellin' me to shut up?" Michelangelo asked, looking at Donatello in mock hurt.

Donatello shrugged and said nothing, his face set.

Michelangelo saw the grim look and sighed. "Alright, let's get this over with. This intervention shouldn't last all day, I don't think."

Raphael growled. "I'm gonna kill Amy." He said, but with no real threat behind it.

All three brothers took a seat, surrounding Michelangelo.

"Alright, "Leonardo started, immediately switching his tone to concern. "The thing is, we're worried about you. You just haven't been the same since… well, you know."

"Jade. Her name is Jade, Leo. And she died. How do you expect me to act?" Michelangelo threw his leader a cynical look.

Raphael heaved a sigh. "We don't want ya to be normal or anything, it's just…You can talk, you know.

Leonardo took on a look of understanding, "I know you're in pain Mikey, but we miss our brother…"

Michelangelo growled low in his throat, "What the hell do you know about pain Leo? When have you even lost someone you loved?"

Raphael saw the look that crossed Leonardo face and was quick to intervene. "I know we can't relate but… just tell us how we can help… _something_."

Michelangelo was no longer smiling. He was looking steadily down at the scarred table, twisting his orange bandanna between his fingers. "You could leave me alone. Ever think of that? Maybe I don't wanna talk to you guys, maybe I don't know what to say. Donny's always shut up in his room and I don't see anyone trying to drag him out." He said, his voice agitated.

"Don's girlfriend didn't die Mikey." Leonardo said, annoyed.

Donatello, who had said nothing in the past minute that could be considered helpful, was suddenly out of his chair. "I'll make tea." He said quickly, moving to the oven and grabbing the kettle.

"Wasn't my girlfriend." Michelangelo was mumbling, his head downcast.

"I know but… you said you thought she was calling to get back together. That means something Mikey. Besides, we all know you loved her." Leonardo said, his voice shifting from aggravated to soothing.

Raphael was watching Donatello with narrowed eyes. He was nervous, pulling down the good china and making a loud clatter with every dish he brought from the cabinet. There was something, a piece of the puzzle, that Raphael suddenly realized he had missed.

"That's the thing." Michelangelo said miserably. "I'm not so sure. I think… I think she was seeing someone else."

There was a crash, and the tea cup Donatello had been holding was broken into tiny pieces on the floor.

"Sorry... slipped." He muttered, bending down to pick up the mess.

Everything suddenly clicked into place.

"What makes you think that?" Leo asked Michelangelo, his voice low.

"After I killed that guy, I waited until the police left and went back to her apartment." Michelangelo's voice was quiet and strained. "She… she had out two cups, like she'd been with someone before I got there. And there was a suitcase… She'd been packing."

There was silence, and while Leonardo was looking in sympathy at a near tears Michelangelo, Raphael stared pointedly at Donatello.

Finally, standing behind Michelangelo with a handful of broken china, the purple banded turtle met his brother's gaze.

Raphael cocked his head to the side, his face an mask of angry emotion.

'_You.'_ He mouthed silently.

Donatello closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, giving one single, slight nod.

Raphael looked back at the table and shook his head.

"Okay, enough for the day." He announced, and silenced Leonardo's protest with a cutting look.

"Mike, we'll talk later. Just, go do what you do."

Michelangelo acquiesced immediately, springing from his chair and heading to his room, his shoulders taut and his whole posture stiff.

Once he was shut safely behind his closed door, Raphael turned angry eyes to Donatello.

"Not now." Donatello said, his voice choked and tense.

Leonardo looked between the two. "Am I missing something?" He asked.

Donatello shook his head and dropped the glass in the trash can before walking purposely to his room.

Raphael stood and followed him, leaving Leonardo sitting by himself at the table.

Once they were both shut in Donatello's room, Raphael rounded on him.

There was an uncomfortable silence before Raphael hissed, "_Jade_ Don? What the _hell _is wrong with you?"

It took everything in him not to yell, everything in him not to scream at the top of his lungs. This was bad, this was so very, very bad.

Donatello sat heavily on his bed, cradling his face in his hands. "I know okay." He answered, his voice muffled.

"What? You know what? That you were cheating? That you stole Mike's girlfriend? You've been keeping a pretty big secret Donny." Raphael's voice was an angry whisper.

"I didn't cheat." Came Donatello's voice as he lifted his head.

"How do you figure that?" Raphael bit out.

"Because… I didn't do anything with her when they were together. We just… talked. And then… I don't know, it changed. All the sudden I liked her, a lot. We had a lot in common. And she was fun and beautiful and… and Mikey's."

Raphael's jaw was working. "So how do we get from this, to banging Mike's girlfriend?"

Donatello shot up, standing inches from Raphael, his green face becoming slightly tinged with red.

"It wasn't like that! She was better than that." Donatello took a quick step back, trying to curb his emotion, his breathing heavy.

"So what was it like Don? I'm still not gettin' it." Raphael said through gritted teeth. He'd had quite enough of his brothers thinking they could say whatever they wanted to him.

Donatello sighed. "We… we realized that we liked each other more than friends. She was horrified. She hated to hurt Mikey, but…"

Donatello looked pleading. "I loved her Raph. It wasn't some fling. She called Mike to tell him. To… let him know what was going on."

"To let him down easy." Raphael said.

Donatello nodded, sitting back down on his bed with a heave and a thump.

"Yeah, I guess."

Raphael sighed. Maybe this wasn't too bad… Who was he kidding? Michelangelo was going to flip.

"She'd already broken up with him, and then we got together. It was a secret at first, neither of us could hurt Mikey like that, but… we couldn't stop seeing each other either. Trust me, we tried."

Donatello spoke, his voice soft. "She wanted him to get over her first, before we let anyone know. We knew we had to tell him though. She called to say she needed to talk to him and then…"

Donatello sucked in a ragged breath. "I begged her to let me stay. I told her we should tell him together. And she wouldn't hear it. She just kept saying that she was the one who had to do it, that it was her responsibility. And really, I was happy to go. I didn't want to be there when Mikey found out. I knew he'd see it as the ultimate betrayal. I just… If I had stayed…"

Donatello looked up at his brother, eyes watery. "She's dead because of me Raph. If I had just stayed. That guy… he had to of come minutes after I left. If I had been there, I could have stopped him, I could have protected her. I should have _stayed._"

Raphael looked at his brother, and culminating with his anger was an inexplicable pang of pity. Donatello had also been in grieving these last five months, he'd just had to hide it.

"I can't talk to you right now." Raphael said, looking away from Donny, a sickness building in his stomach.

He went to leave, but stopped short at the door. "You have to tell him Don. He has the right to know."

"I know. I've tried, I just don't know what to say."

Raphael couldn't help the look that crossed his face. "Try harder."

_**xxx**_

Raphael jumped in surprise when he entered his room and saw Theresa. He'd completely forgotten she was there.

She was sitting, crossed legged and bare foot on Raphael's bed, reading one of the magazines April had brought him months ago.

She looked up at him as he entered and smiled.

"How'd it go?" She asked.

Raphael looked at her, his face full of emotion (mostly anger), he hadn't gotten rid of on his way back from Donatello's room.

"Not good then." Theresa said, standing and walking to him, the magazine falling forgotten to the floor.

She stopped in front of him, her hands clasped in front of her. "You ok?" She asked.

Raphael took a deep breath before shaking his head. "Life just got a little more confusing. I can't tell you about it, not right now anyway."

Theresa gave him a small smile. "It's fine. Here, let's talk about something. Did you get to talk to Donatello yet? Did you ask him about my window?"

Raphael made a face, "Didn't really talk to Donny much." He said by way of answer, his voice laced with contempt.

Theresa bit her lip. "Okaaayy. So no talking about your brothers. Um, do you want to explain the porn hidden under your mattress?"

Raphael jerked his head up, then gave her a sly grin. "I don't keep my porn there thank you very much."

Theresa laughed. "There, you're smiling. Wanna watch a movie?"

Raphael had to hold back touching his face to see if he really was smiling.

"A movie is fine." Raphael said.

Theresa looked around his room. "Uh, no TV." She said, glancing up and down the subway car.

"It's in the living room. Mikey and Leo both have a TV, but I never bothered. It was always too much of a hassle to bribe Donny into fixing one." He said, shrugging.

"Ah, well. To the living room then." She said, going to open his door.

"Wait." He said, reaching out a hand and grabbing her shoulder.

Theresa looked up at him, her eyes suddenly darkening.

"Yes?" she asked softly.

"Let's just… wait. Lets talk or something. I don't really wanna go out there right now. Later we can watch a movie."

He let go of Theresa's arm, and she found herself nodding. "Yeah, ok."

She turned and walked back to his bed, bouncing down on it and re-crossing her legs.

Raphael took a seat in the chair at the end of his bed, looking at her thoughtfully.

"What?" she asked when she noticed his gaze, suddenly self conscious.

Raphael shook his head, "Nothin'. So, I did want to say sorry, I guess, for this morning."

Theresa looked at him in question. "This morning?"

Raphael gave her a furtive smirk. "With Mikey. Guess I shouldn't have been that worried. Here I thought you were gonna be mentally scared."

Theresa's eyes widened, "No, no. I _am_ mentally scarred. That was… he's very… I don't really know how to take him. I mean, I like him. But he's so… _moody_. I mean, he's like a switch. One minute he's one way and the next, Bam!" Theresa clapped her hand together, "Watch out, cause now he gone all… bi-polar. …_What?_"

Raphael laughed a little bit. "You just explained me. I never though I'd see the day someone would say what you just did and not be talkin' bout me. Mikey never used to be like this. That playful side… you see it the most, actually. That's what he used ta' be like all the time."

Theresa looked doubtful, but asked, "Was he always so… I dunno. Cocky? Flirty?"

This time Raphael let out a loud bark of laughter. "Oh yeah. He thinks he's quite the ladies man. He's… sure of himself, I guess. Ever since he turned seventeen there was this big… thing. He's been like that ever since."

Theresa looked curious. "What kind of thing?"

Raphael gave her a lopsided grin. "If I tell you, you gotta keep it on the low. Leo never did find out."

Theresa's eyes lit up. "Ooohh, a secret. Tell me. I won't repeat it to a soul."

Raphael gave her a look, like he was thinking about it, before he began speaking.

"Alright. So when we turned seventeen, me, Don, and Mikey used to sneak out of the lair. Only not at night, in the middle of the day. We'd tell Leo we were exploring the sewer when really, we were goin' top side. Well, Mikey got the idea to follow these girls to their high school, and eventually, that's what we did everyday. We'd follow them, glance in on some of the classes, and then go watch the kids on their field. You know, track, football… cheerleading. Whatever."

Theresa snickered at this, imagining three teenaged turtles hiding under bleachers, watching the cheerleaders doing their routines.

Raphael gave a wry grin, "Only eventually, it got depressing. I mean, think about it. None of us could ever do that. These kid's hated school, and we ended up wanting that _so_ bad."

Raphael sighed and continued, "After a while, Leo started hammering into us that we could never… you know… be with someone. Mind you, this is before he got laid, it was before _any _of us got laid. It drove Mikey crazy. He loved girls, it was all he talked about. And watchin' them everyday and then goin' home to get told that he couldn't have em', it wasn't a good combination."

Raphael's eyes were suddenly alight, and a big goofy grin plastered itself on his face. "So one day we're following these girls home, and Mikey looks at us, all serious, and says, 'I'm going and talking to one.'"

Theresa laughed, "Just like that, just says he's going to talk to one of the girls you've been shadowing for… how long?"

"Two months. And yeah, just outta the blue says, 'I'm talkin' to one and I'm gonna make her my girlfriend.' Now me and Don are worried, cuz that was a big rule breaker in Leo and Sensei's things-never-to-do-list. Never reveal yourself unless necessary. But Mikey wouldn't hear it, and he waited till the prettiest one was about to go in her house, and he walked right up to her."

Theresa's eyes were large and Raphael had to smile at her enthusiasm for the story.

"So, after she gets done freakin out, which took a good minute, Mike says he thinks she's hot and would she be his girlfriend. I think he mighta' even said please."

"No way. That's a load a crap." Theresa exclaimed.

"I swear." Raphael said.

Theresa smiled even bigger, "Did she go for it?"

Raphael shook his head, "Well here's the thing. She tells him she's got a boyfriend, some big football player. Now me and Don can hear all this, and we're thinkin' that Mike's done for now. He's shuffling his feet and looking all pathetic and apologizing'."

Raphael gave a rueful smile and sucked in his cheek with a smack, "Then this girl, this smoking hot blonde with a mini skirt to her ass, who I think all of us went home and fantasized about, she looks him up and down and says four words that made me and Don jealous for… I dunno. Years."

He looked at Theresa, and with a low voice said, "My parent's aren't home."

Theresa lost it. "She was a slut!" She cried, falling onto her back and clutching her stomach while she shook with laughter.

"Big time ho. So he goes in. Me and Don… the things we heard comin' from that house. She was… loud."

Theresa looked weary. "Loud? Loud is bad?"

"For us it was. We were already jealous enough, we didn't need to be hearin' some of the things she was yellin' out."

Theresa rolled her eyes but grinned. "So that's it, that's why he's so… I don't want to say cocky, that makes him sound shallow. But he's… confidant. I think that's a good word for him."

Raphael nodded. "That's it. He was hell to live with after that. He bragged all the firkin' time. He was the first to do what, me and Don at least, considered the _most_ important. Forget ninjitsu and bushido and training exercises, he got the girl first. None of us realized it was a race until he'd won it."

Theresa looked him, her eyes alight. "So, who got second place?"

Raphael grimaced, "You know, second place is just the first loser."

Theresa laughed, "Ah, but its also second place. Just tell me."

Raphael spit the name out like acid. _"Leo." _

Theresa raised her brows, "I thought you said he-"

"Oh trust me, he felt guilty about it. I don't even think he realized he could want a woman like that. He came home all… dazed."

Theresa giggled, "Dazed huh? Who was she?"

Again Raphael made a sour face. "Stupid brat. She was the enemy. She was… you know, we all knew it was comin'. I just though Leo wouldn't step over the line. Toe it, maybe. Tread dangerously close, sure. But just jump right over it? Ignore the line completely? Not in a million years."

Theresa tried to hold back her smile, "Okay, So Mikey, then Leo, then…?"

Raphael looked at her and thought of lying. Finally he said, "Don."

Theresa couldn't help it, she was really smiling now. And she couldn't help but say, "So the best was last?"

Raphael rolled his eyes, "Hey, it wasn't funny. I was pissed. Don met some chick when we turned eighteen that was about as obsessed with science as he was. Never met her, I think her name was… Taylor. That was it. Leo met her, said she was pretty. Didn't last long though. You know how much I missed him by?"

It apparently it wasn't a question he meant her to answer, because he continued, "Two days. Two flippin' days!"

Theresa smirked, "Who was she?"

Raphael grinned now, wolfish. "Oh, she was great. Amber. Shoulder length brown hair, green eyes. She was sweet, real sweet. She moved when I turned nineteen though, went to Florida."

"Heartbroken?"

"Devastated." He answered a look of long forgotten emotion in his eyes.

"We saw each other again four months later and… I dunno. It was different. She went her way, I went mine."

Theresa laughed, "First love is the worst. And I waited longer than you did. I was nineteen, in college. It got to a point where I was thinking it would never happen. Then I met Riley. Athletic type, two years older, in law school. Daddy loved him."

Raphael snorted at that, remembering Theresa's father asking him if he was a lawyer.

"He was bad news though. Stuck around just long enough to talk me into it, then he was gone. And I mean literally gone too. Just finished and got up and left. Never called, never phoned. Men are assholes like that."

Raphael made a sound in the back of his throat. "Not all men. That's low. I don't think me, or any of my brothers, have ever done that. And if I ever got up and left, it was with the clear understanding that what me and whatever girl I was with were doing, was with no strings attached. Nothin' more."

Theresa cocked her head to the side, "you know some people might, at this point in the conversation, be amazed that as a turtle you could have one night stands, but…"

Raphael lifted his eye ridges, "But?"

"Well, I don't know. It seems likely, to me, that you would. I think that I would have been more shocked if you had said that you hadn't."

Raphael gave a small half smile. "Why's that?"

Theresa hesitated before answering. "It's just… your not some monster, like other people might think… your just… not a monster."

Raphael was leaning forward in his chair now, defiantly noticing the blush that had crept up on her cheeks. "_I _know I'm not a monster, but what do _you_ think I am?"

Theresa hesitated once more, her eyes darting around the room. How had this potentially embarrassing conversation come about?

"You're a _person_. That is to say, you don't look like a person, but you are. Oh! Do you get what I mean?"

Raphael shook his head, pursing his lips to keep back laughter. "No, explain it to me."

Theresa expelled a breath of frustration. "You're just a person! Don't you get it? You're not a monster, your actually very… _nice looking_. You have all the qualities of a really decent human being, you're just a different species that's really, well, not all that different. You… you're the opposite of monster. You're…"

Raphael's smile had gone away now, and he was looking at her in a way that scared Theresa. There was an intensity in it, a depth she wasn't actually ready to handle just yet.

Suddenly she was out of the bed, dusting off her pants and looking anywhere but his face. "I think we should probably go. I should hit the streets, I need to talk to some people about my client."

Raphael nodded slowly, standing also. He opened the sliding door and stood to the side as she walked out of his room, her pace fast.

But as he followed, he couldn't help but think that she had said the one thing that could _really_ get him in trouble. She had said, in more words than less, that he was _normal_. He didn't need that validation, he'd gotten over that a long time ago. But that she had just said it, without any preamble or reservations, was an entirely new experience for him. She had accepted him, and not in some gradual and ongoing way, but right from the beginning. She'd never even screamed or looked alarmed at the sight of him. She just… accepted.

As Raphael followed her out of the lair and top side he couldn't help but think that, against all odds, he'd gone and gotten himself into something he wasn't sure he could handle. Something he'd promised himself that he wouldn't fall for again, not since Mia. And Theresa was slowly wearing him down, getting inside of him and breaking away his walls like they were nothing more than fragile clay.

And he was afraid that deep down he didn't even care if she got in. That maybe he wanted her come inside and warm his heart. That maybe, he'd just opened the doors, and dammed the consequences. Maybe, just maybe, he _needed_ the walls to come down.

Maybe he wanted them to.

_**xxx**_

Authors Note: Holy crap! That was a lot of dialogue.

You know, I read some peoples fan fiction and I think, "Wow, they've got it right. I can really picture all the guys talking just like that." And I can't help but wonder, is my writing style as such? Can you picture them all talking like this?

You know, the whole point of this story (or at least part of my intention), is to take each turtle and put him in a different perspective, in a different element. The most noticeable at the moment being Mikey. I hope, though, that through all of this they still seem like themselves, that they stay true to their character.

And if you can't tell, I've been on a Mikey kick lately, hence the whole naked thing, and him getting the big 'S' first. But the attention paid to him is crucial to the story.

Oh, and Donatello fans, please don't kill me. It was my plan from the beginning to have this happen, and now I'm feeling like such a heel. I love the guy, really I do, and he's going to have his moment in the spotlight, trust me. It's not like I had him do anything wrong… he was in love dammit!

Special thanks to Lola Hard. Lady, you rock in so many ways that the gift I'm typing you up might end up being a little more than one chapter. Maybe a three part installation to curb you Donny craving. :)

And new reviewers!! Oh, you guys are the best. I LOVE feedback. THANK YOU EVERYONE!

And my sister, Amber, is yelling at me, telling me that I have to say that she was Raph's first. Happy now brat?


	8. Chapter Eight, Friends in low places

_**A/N:**_ The Spanish spoken by Emanuel is not a typo, and translation is provided at the bottom. All the bad grammar is also not a typo, so please don't correct me later. I'll reiterate into everyone that this story **_is rated M for a reason_**, so if you can't stand the heat, get outta the kitchen.

_**xxx**_

_**Chapter Eight: Friends in low places.**_

_**xxx**_

"I look like an idiot."

Theresa, keeping her eyes fixed on the road, shook her head. "No you don't, you look mysterious."

Raphael grimaced and threw a sideways glance at Theresa.

"Bull shit. I look like a crazy. I wish you'd a told me I needed ta go in disguise. These clothes are the dumbest-"

"They're not that bad!" She exclaimed, her voice resentful.

"Theresa, I'm wearing yellow rain boots."

Theresa bit her lip. "Mysterious yellow rain boots…"

Raphael rolled his eyes, "I can see you trying not to laugh. This isn't funny. If my brothers ever found out that I-"

"They won't! Listen, it was all they had at the Salvation Army that would fit you, ok. You're the one who insisted on coming with, I can't help it that you look like a very overgrown member of the Mickey Mouse Club."

Upon reaching the parking lot adjacent to her apartment, Theresa had realized that Raphael wasn't exactly looking like the stealthiest mutant turtle in the world, he didn't even have his bandanna on. The solution, instead of wasting time going back down to the lair, was to stop by the Salvation Army so Theresa could run in and find him a suitable disguise. Her definition of suitable was quite warped in Raphael's opinion, however. This was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life, if not the most embarrassing outfit.

"Very funny. You'll pay for this. Someone's gonna try to kick my ass and I'll have to put em' in the hospital for it."

Raphael, to his soaring discontent, was currently wearing a pair of neon yellow rain boots that were tight on his feet, huge black windbreaker pants that he knew he was going to have problems with keeping up, and an off-white marshmallow looking coat that smelled like smoke and mold.

Theresa glanced at him carefully. "The hat is a nice touch."

Raphael looked up at the ball cap, bright green emblazoned with the John Deer logo, and scowled.

"I look like a mental patient. I look like I just escaped from Arkham Asylum."

Theresa smiled, "On the run from Batman?"

"Batman don't got nothin' on me." Raphael muttered offhandedly, still making faces at his attire.

After a moment more of unintelligible grumbling, Raphael settled back against his seat. "So… what's with the car?" He asked, looking around, trying not to focus on his attire.

"You mean why is my car, like my apartment, a piece of shit?" Theresa stated in a mater-of-fact tone.

Raphael nodded, "Yeah, basically. What's with you Theresa? You've got taste, I can tell by the way you dress, and by the way your apartment is decorated. This car is on its last life." He thumped the dash board for emphasis.

Theresa rolled her eyes, "I think, somewhere in that statement, was a back handed compliment. The apartment is a necessary. I'm really close to my clients and my office, and I don't waste a lot of gas driving from here to Soho and back. And the car I _had_ to get. When I won my first big case, I went out and bought a sweet looking Mercedes. It was red and had a sun roof and all the special features. I loved that car." Her eyes became glazed at the thought of the little sportster.

Raphael laughed, realizing that he enjoyed watching her talk as much as he liked listening to her. When Theresa told a story, she used her whole body; arms, hands, hips, head. It was a shame they were in the car, he'd like to see what she looked like when she told a story standing up. Probably like she was dancing.

"Let me guess, it was gone the first night you got it?" He asked, watching her closely.

Theresa nodded, "Well, sort of. The wheels were gone and my window was broken and the stereo got ripped out… I actually had someone offer to sell it to me two days later."

Raphael chuckled. "So you traded in and went and got this junk yard on wheels?"

"It's not that bad! It blends in with the crowd. It's got character!" She exclaimed.

"Theresa, the car is missing its ignition, you started it with a screw driver."

"Character I tell you!"

When Raphael had seen the rusting brown Chrysler, he'd thought it was a joke, the Mercedes sounded so much more like Theresa's preference. But she had gotten into the decrepit looking thing, and when Raphael had just stood there looking at it, Theresa had waved him in enthusiastically. He could feel the door handle starting to give out when he had pulled on it, and had sat down on the ripped leather seat carefully, worried that the whole vehicle might collapse with his weight.

When Theresa had reached over and pulled out the Phillips head from the dash board, he'd again thought she was pulling some extremely elaborate prank. But Theresa had started the car with the screw driver and drove off, the cars exhaust popping and leaving a billow of smoke in their wake.

Raphael looked at her now, his eyes narrowed. "My motorcycle has character. This is beyond character, this is just sad."

Theresa's eyes lit up. "You have a motorcycle?" she asked, ignoring his crack about her vehicle.

"Uh, yeah."

Theresa pursed her lips and looked skeptical. "Hmmm… like what kind? Like a Harley?" She asked.

Raphael shook his head. "Nah. Crotch Rocket. It's a speed demon, it's got… _what?_"

Theresa had made a small noise in the back of her throat. "Nothing."

A wicked smile crossed Raphael's face, "You like bad boys, don't you?"

Theresa jerked her head to look at him before turning her eyes back to the road. "What!"

"Bad boys. I bet every guy you've ever dated was some pumped up jerk that wore a leather jacket."

"Nuh-uh… not all of them. Some were… nice. Why do you think that anyway? Just because I like motorcycles? So what? Lots of girls like motorcycles. And who says you're a bad boy?"

Theresa realized, to late, that she was rambling. Again.

"No one said I was a bad boy, I just fit the stereo type. But that's kind of a way of saying you like me." Raphael's voice was laced with smug satisfaction at her slip.

Theresa was biting her lip again. "I, well… I do like you. I just… this is all very confusing. I just met you."

Raphael was suddenly very grateful for the poker face he'd developed from Friday night card games with Amy.

"How did we just get to this topic? I think we were on Motorcycles."

"Well we were, but then you said I like bad boys, and you're a stereo typical bad boy, and then I said I liked you, and… and… oh. You were trying to change the subject. Right. Uh, I like motorcycles because their fast, and when I'm on one I get the tingles."

Raphael raised an eye ridge. "Tingles?"

Theresa's eyes widened. "Oh crap. Ok, maybe not tingles so much as… well yeah, tingles. But they're a good kind. Not a sex kind but… well maybe sort of a sex kind, but different. They um… they… I'm an _idiot_. You get me all rattled and nervous, and then I start rambling and going off on these random tangents, and I look like an idiot. I only do this around you… Well, I do it around my parents, and some of my friends, but mostly you. I get all… _flusterey_."

Raphael cocked his head to the side. "Is that even a real word? Flusterey?"

Theresa shook her head, "I don't think so, no."

Raphael chuckled. "It's alright that you ramble. It's kinda' cute. In a weird annoying way."

Theresa cut a sideways look at him. "Annoying bad?"

Raphael smiled, looking ahead at the passing business complex's and subsidized housing. "Annoying in a good way. Where are we goin'? This is a bad area."

Theresa turned down a street that held an abundance of graffiti on the brick walls and made her way down it. "We're going to talk to some old clients of mine. They usually have information about what's going on around town."

"You wanna tell me a little about what's goin' on with this client of yours? I don't wanna be stuck guessing what's goin' on while you're talking."

Theresa sighed. "It's simple really. His names Romeo Heart and-"

Raphael snorted, cutting her off. "_Romeo Heart?_ That aint his real name."

Theresa nodded. "Real name. His family lives about three blocks from here, which is where we're going after this. Anyway, Romeo used to be a big time gang banger. Got into a lot of trouble. Theft, armed robbery, assault, drug trafficking. Pretty sure he was a Purple Dragon."

"Oh great, you defend my sworn enemy." Raphael said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, he changed. He met a girl, they got married, and they've got kids. Three."

Raphael rolled his eyes, "You know that means absolutely nothin', right? Since when did a family stop you from bein' a criminal?"

Theresa gave a long suffering sigh and slowed to pull along side the curb, shifting into park. "Well it did for him. He has a steady job, his wife is a nurse, he had no reason to rob a bank."

"That means nothin'." Raphael said flatly.

Theresa cut off the engine and turned to look at Raphael, her eyes penetrating and somber. "Listen to me. He's got a checkered past, I know. But he changed. His wife Shar and I are friends, I baby-sit their kids sometimes. _He didn't do it Raph._"

Raphael looked at her, her face full of stern certainty, and sighed. "I'll reserve judgment." He acquiesced, shrugging slightly.

Theresa smiled at him, "Good. Now come on, the guys I want to talk to are just over there."

As they exited the car, Raphael scoped out the area and glanced in the direction Theresa had indicated. Besides the street they were on being deep into various gang's turfs, the four men that were standing on the corner were some serious looking thugs.

'_Oh wonderful, Theresa wants to go talk to the drug dealers.' _Raphael though to himself, wondering if it was a normal habit for her to just wander into the ghetto like this and talk to criminals.

As they approached the street corner Raphael suddenly reached out an arm and stopped Theresa. "Hold on… Okay, get back in the car."

He began pulling her back to the Chrysler, but Theresa smacked his arm away. "Huh? Why? What's wrong?"

Raphael glanced back at the group of people and leaned toward Theresa. "That's Emanuel Vasquez. You know, Roberto Vasquez's brother."

Theresa looked at him blankly, "And this means what to me?"

Raphael scowled, "He's not a nice guy Theresa. He went to jail for murder, it was all over the news. His brother is a _coke lord_."

Theresa rolled her eyes, "Oh please, as if I didn't already know. Now come on, you're acting suspicious. They'll think your tapped or something."

Theresa turned on her heel and walked quickly away from Raphael before he could grab her, leaving him to stare after her for a moment before following in a hurry.

As they reached the group, Raphael pulled his hat down lower and hunched his shoulders, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

One of the men, not Emanuel, but a tall and skinny white kid with his ball cap tilted to the side and his jeans sagging well past his upper thigh, noticed them first.

"Theresa! That you?" He asked, his accent thick with the projects.

Theresa smiled at him, and Raphael noticed from the corner of his eye that the smile reached her eyes. She wasn't pretending to humor him with her presence, she really was happy to see him.

"In the flesh. Hello Corbin." She answered, stepping onto the curb.

The kid smiled and pulled her into his arms. "Ah. My favorite lawyer. You defendin' Manny?"

At this, Emanuel Vasquez shook his head. He was large and short, with beady brown eyes, short jet black hair, and cinnamon skin. "Not me, Pigs ain't got nuthin' on me." He said, spitting and bringing a cigar to his lips.

Theresa stepped back from Corbin's arms and smiled at Emanuel. "I'm sure, when you're here on the corner like this, the police won't have to wait long to have a case against you… _again._"

Emanuel smiled toothily, "Yeah well, that shouldn't make you to unhappy. More money for you."

Theresa shook her head, "I don't take drug money."

A third member of the party, a black man who stood well shorter than Emanuel, finally spoke up. "Hey, who's that?" he asked, looking between Corbin and Manny's shoulders.

All eyes turned to Raphael, and there was a slight pause as they all scrutinized him.

"This is… Rick. He's here to make sure I don't get mugged." Theresa said, throwing Raphael a scathing look.

Emanuel made a face and spit on the sidewalk again. "With us here? He know who I am Resa? Ain't nobody out for you wit' me here. And wassup wit his shoes? He look like a fool." Emanuel said, puffing out his chest in a threatening manner, looking "Rick" up and down.

Raphael growled and opened his mouth to speak, but Theresa cut him off. "Oh, he's a little eccentric. _Anyway_, I'm here to ask you guys a few questions."

"Bout' yer Brotha'?" Corbin asked, looking sympathetic, "Or this about Romeo?"

Raphael, not realizing that she even had a brother, watched as Theresa tensed.

"Well," she said, exhaling as she did so, "I was going to ask about Romeo, but if you've heard anything about Tommy, I'd like to hear it."

The man who had asked about Raphael, tall and muscular with dark swarthy skin, groaned and said, "Resa, you better off not knowin'."

Corbin threw his companions a look that clearly said, _'shut your mouth.' _

"What Will means is, yer brother is actin' stupid." Corbin said.

Emanuel nodded, his eyes grave. "Yeah Reese, you should prob'ly talk to him. He dissed the _Familia_."

Theresa suddenly looked worried, _"What!"_

Emanuel sucked on his cheek, "Yeah, my brother just recently started tradin' with them so, you know, we's cool with em'."

Raphael rolled his eyes at this, he was pretty sure _'trade'_ didn't mean grocery store goods. Trading anything with the Familia meant either drugs or weapons.

"Yer brother started running his mouth bout Benito," Emanuel continued, "And that brought the whole Familia down on his stupid ass. Now my brother in a bind, cus we like's Tommy boy, and don't nobody like Benito. But Benito's power, so we got's to go wit him. Your brother joined up with the South Side for protection bout' a week ago, got their brand an everything. El ha conseguido una Ganas de morir." (1)

Theresa looked struck, and Raphael tried processing all this information. The Familia was a Mexican gang, notorious for honor amongst members, and slaughter amid anyone else. Her brother had disrespected a member of the Familia, Benito, and Raphael had _definitely_ heard of him.

Benito Escobar was an ex cop turned thug, and a constant thorn in the Familia's side. Besides lacking the full trust of the gang for his previous profession, he was a fighter and a bully and, the way Raphael heard it, was happy to cut into anyone who even looked at him wrong.

Emanuel's brother, who was apparently doing drug trade with the Familia, was honor bound not to step in and claim protection over Tommy, even if he wanted to. So Tommy, from what Raphael gathered, had joined the South Siders.

It was a nasty little gang, and if he was branded, he was a member for life. The tattoo of a very distinctive looking cross on the palm of a members hand was a red flag for all to know that whoever wore it, was an initiated member.

Theresa's face turned to stone, and she took a deep breath. "Ok, my brother is an idiot. Now what about Romeo?"

Corbin shuffled his feet a bit, "Yeah, I heard you lost. That's too bad, Romeo's a good guy."

Theresa narrowed her eyes at the Corbin, "I know he's a good guy Cor, what I want to know is if there's word about who really robbed the First National. We all know Romeo didn't do it."

Corbin looked at her, his blue eyes softening. "Yeah, everyone knows its B.S. The thing is, we all got told not to say nothin'. Rome got enemies in prison and he's supposed to be gettin' hit."

Raphael could see Theresa tensing again. "Hit? They're going to kill him! Corbin, tell me now!"

Corbin looked at her guiltily, "We aint supposed to say Reese… even to you. _Specially' _to you."

Theresa curled her lips, suddenly looking very angry and annoyed. "Who got you out on a years probation when you got caught importuning?" She asked him, her voice deadly quiet.

Before Corbin could answer (and he'd opened his mouth to do so), Theresa turned her sharp eyes to Emanuel.

"Who got you down to three months when they were trying to give you ten for trafficking and harboring?"

Again her eyes cut to another member of the group, who had been quiet thus far. He was average size and had pale skin and a long scar over his left cheek. "Who, Frankie, bailed your ass out in the middle of the night, because you were cited for indecent exposure?"

Emanuel laughed at this. "Hey man, I forgot about that. You were pissin' in the middle of the road."

"So all of you," she snarled, ignoring Manny's comment, "don't even give me this macho _bull shit_ about not telling me anything. I don't care what your _family_ says. They aren't the ones who keep your asses out of jail. Now, you all belong there, rotting in prison, and Romeo doesn't. So if any of you have heard anything, I suggest you get to talking. Because unless you do, the next time your asses are in a bind don't even _bother_ calling me."

Corbin grimaced, then shot a questioning look to Emanuel.

Manny nodded, his face set, and Corbin let out an exasperated sigh.

"Okay, okay. Just calm down." He said putting up his hands. "All I know is, Romeo didn't do it. Everyone knows. He took that deal five years ago and ratted on alotta people though, so when all this armed robbery shit came up, he was the one everyone on the street wanted to pin down for it. People went to jail cus Rome got to snitchen', and don't nobody like a snitch. An' Rome feel bad for getting' all those people locked up, so he ain't telling who really robbed the bank."

Theresa paled and sucked in a sharp breath, "He _knows_ who robbed the bank? And he didn't tell me?"

Corbin made a face, "Yeah, he knows."

Corbin paused, as if he was thinking carefully about what his next words would be, before saying, "It was his brother, Demetrius. They twins so the DNA matched, an that witness lady wouldn't know the difference, lookin' at the two of em."

Theresa narrowed her eyes at Corbin, "You couldn't have told me this sooner?" She growled, her brown eyes flashing with fury.

Corbin shrugged, "Not like I been talkin' to you lately. You aint regular pussy, you aint no ho, so why should I call you?"

Theresa snorted, "Well at least you know that much. And don't say pussy, it sounds disgusting."

Corbin gave a wicked smile and took a step closer to Theresa.

"Pussy." He said, he voice full of suggestion.

Theresa rolled her eyes and pushed at his chest. "Oh please. Get away from me you oaf, I've had enough of men who take it too far."

Corbin smiled, but stepped back. "Who's been takin' it too far? This joker?" Corbin asked, jerking his thumb in Raph's direction.

Hostile eyes turned to Raphael, looking non-threatening in his John Deer hat and fluffy off-white coat.

Theresa laughed, "Not hardly. Rap- Rick, actually saved me. Some asshole is stalking me... harassing me. He cornered me a couple days ago in an alley and was _not_ very friendly."

Corbin narrowed his eyes at her. "You couldn't have told me this sooner?" He asked, deliberately mimicking her earlier question.

"Well you know, you aint no regular pussy." Theresa mimicked back, smirking at him.

"Oh baby, I like when you say pussy." Corbin said, laughing and grabbing himself.

Theresa made a face, "You're disgusting."

Emanuel grinned, "You gettin' stalked aint no surprise Reese, but you getting' fucked with is. Don't nobody know who you friends wit? Que la cosa más loca que he oído." (2)

Theresa shook her head. "I don't exactly go around advertising that I know Emanuel Vasquez and his gang of merry men."

Manny stared at her before saying, "Fuck Robin Hood. I aint wearin' no tights."

Theresa laughed, "Now that's a picture. Listen, I've got to go. I need to talk to Romeo's family and then head down to the court house. I hate to ask but, anyone know when the hit's supposed to happen?"

There was more uncomfortable shuffling before Corbin said, "Three days, cell block E."

Theresa sucked in a deep breath, "Alright, I've got three days. See you guys later. And stay out of trouble!"

She turned to leave, and Raph went to follow, but a hand on his upper bicep stopped him.

"Wait a minute bro'." Emanuel said, gripping tightly to Raphael's forearm and twisting him around. "You gotta answer a couple questions. We aint letting you follow Ressa around without knowin' who you is. La hermana pequeña puede ir apenas andar alrededor con nadie. (3) You don't look like you can protect her none. Maybe I should send Corbin wit ya'll, till all this blows over. Aint nothin' for me to have a guy killed Reese."

Manny still kept a tight hold of Raphael, and the turtle hid his face down lower in his coat and glowered.

Theresa looked nervously between the two before saying, "He's capable Manny. And Corbin would try to feel me up every chance he got."

Corbin laughed, "Who wouldn't. You fuckin' hot Theresa. My Mom would feel you up."

Theresa made a face. "Nice." She said, her voice derisive.

Corbin smirked and turned to look at Raphael. "He don't look so tuff Reese. Your brotha'd be pissed if he knew you wasn't goin' to him an me for help. This dude all hunch backed and shit…"

Corbin took another step closer, his eyes narrowed and he tried to look under Raphael's ball cap.

"Wait a minute… I know you!" He exclaimed, stopping suddenly in his tracks and looking worriedly to Theresa.

"Resa, you hangin' out with the Nightwatcher!"

Theresa made a face, her heart rate easing back down. "Oh please. Raph- I mean Rick, is so far away from being the Nightwatcher he's on a different planet."

Raphael snorted loudly, not being able to hold back his exasperation at his being the Nightwatcher being completely shrugged off by Theresa. Why would that be so unbelievable?

It had been a mistake to do anything though, because now everyone was looking at him.

Theresa's eyes were wide. "You were the _Nightwatcher_ Raph?"

Corbin made a face at her, "Thought his name was Rick. You such a bad liar Reese, how you a lawyer?"

Theresa rolled her eyes and ignored him. "Listen, I didn't know he was the Nightwatcher, I wouldn't have brought him if I did." She said, looking at Emanuel seriously.

Manny, his grip still tight on Raphael, shook his head. "You know how big a pain in the ass this guy was? You know how many deals got busted cause this guy stuck his nose in our business? You free to go Theresa, but this guy stays."

Before Theresa could respond, Raphael began to laugh. Everyone looked at him, Theresa's eyes wide, Corbin's a bit nervous, and everyone else disbelieving and hostile.

"Do you really think," Raphael said, raising his head to meet Manny's stare. "That you could make me stay here with you?"

Emanuel immediately let go of Raphael and jumped backwards onto the curb, stumbling in his haste. "Holy shit, you a monster!" He exclaimed.

"_Raph!"_ Theresa snarled, her eyes wide and angry.

"Oh calm down," Raphael said, tuning to her and taking his hands out of his pockets. "My pants were gettin' ready to fall down anyway. I told you these were to big Theresa."

Theresa shook her head. _"What are you doing?"_ She hissed in alarm, her voice rising to a higher octave.

Raphael shrugged, pulling at his pants and taking off the ball cap. "Everyone on the street has heard enough about the green monsters that I really don't care if they see me. Who's gonna believe em'?" He said, throwing a threatening look at Emanuel.

Manny threw up his hands, "No problems from me bro'. Just leave me alone!"

Raphael smirked and turned to Theresa. "Lets go." He said, stepping onto the road.

Theresa rolled her eyes and went to follow, but Corbin reached out a hand and stopped her. Raphael turned to look at them, his eye ridges raised high.

"Ressa…" Corbin croaked, looking from Raphael to Theresa in slight panic. "Resa, you aint gotta go. Yer brother, I mean, he'd be pissed."

Theresa couldn't believe how much she was rolling her eyes today. "Corbin, my brother is going to be too busy keeping himself alive to bother being worried about me." She said, taking a step away from Corbin.

Corbin, glancing up worriedly at Raphael, reached out and took Theresa's shoulder. "Listen Reese, we like family. _I'd _be worried about you. If somethin's that bad, let _me _look out for you."

Theresa relaxed and gave him a small smile. "Corbin, I'm fine. And when you hear from my brother, don't tell him about all this, I don't need any house calls."

Theresa stepped away from him and walked to Raphael, who had been watching Corbin closely through out the exchange.

He said noting as they retreated away from the small group, but he could feel Corbin's scrutinizing eyes weighing into his back.

As Raphael and Theresa walked together to the car and drove away, Corbin sighed and flipped open his cell phone.

Tommy was going to be pissed.

_**xxx**_

"You have a brother." Raphael said five minutes later as they drove down a maze of side streets and alley ways.

Theresa threw him a look. "You were the Nightwatcher."

Raphael looked over at her, his hat now placed firmly back atop his head.

"It didn't come up." He said simply.

"Yes well, neither did my brother. He's not really someone I like to talk about." Theresa said, focusing on the road in front of her.

"He older?" Raphael asked, still watching her closely.

Theresa nodded, "He's Twenty-Nine. He's been in trouble since he was thirteen."

"Which is why you became a lawyer?" Raphael asked, his eyes searching her face.

Theresa threw him a sideways glance before answering. "No. I followed in my Dad's footsteps. He was a Civil Rights attorney, and that sometimes bleeds into Criminal Defense. My brother had nothing to do with me becoming a lawyer."

"So how do you know Corbin?" Raph asked, trying to keep his voice indifferent.

Theresa sighed. "Corbin I've known since I was Twelve, when Tommy brought him home and introduced him as his best friend."

"He likes you." Raphael said offhandedly, remembering the way he had touched Theresa's shoulder.

Theresa laughed at this. "Yeah well, that sucks for him. He's like a very annoying, very vulgar, very flirty brother, who can't keep himself out of trouble. He's a good guy, in the way that he's loyal to his friends and is sweet to talk to. But in the same way, he's a bad guy. He's a criminal and a thief. He hustles woman into prostitution and he sells drugs almost as much as he uses them. He'll die before he straightens himself out." She said, her voice a little sad.

Theresa cut a quick look at Raphael, who was still watching her, before saying, "Besides, I think I like someone else."

Raphael stiffened and looked away from her, "Yeah well, I bet this guy you like thinks you don't know what you're gettin' yourself into."

Theresa made a face, "What am I getting myself into?" She asked, her voice incredulous.

Raphael groaned, "Listen Theresa, I'm not like other guys you've dated." He alleged, dropping all pretense. "Besides the fact that you've only known me for three days, I'm a turtle. You have a life that would be screwed up if you started anything with me. You can't introduce me to your friends, you can't go on dates with me. You can't take me home to meet your parents who, by the way, already don't like me."

Theresa grimaced. "So? And we could go on dates! This is a date."

Raphael made a face. "How is this in any way like a date?" He asked, his voice contemptuous.

"We went out. You met some of my friends, and now we're going to get some food." She answered, spotting a McDonalds and pulling into it.

Raphael groaned, "This is _not _a date. And I wanna Big Mac with no pickles."

Theresa nodded, "Coke and fries?"

"Yeah, but make the coke a Hi-C, and the fries an apple pie." He answered, edging lower into his seat. "I'll pay you back at the lair."

Theresa laughed and ordered, parking when they got their food and opening her sandwich.

Raphael peered at it. "Ew, filet of fish?"

Theresa grumbled and bit into it. "Filet of fish is delicious, much better than the Big Mac." She argued through a full mouth.

Raphael bit into his burger and shook his head, "Please, the Big Mac is a classic."

There was silence before Raphael continued, "And since you didn't know that, it just proves that we're too different, and couldn't ever get along long enough to date. I don't think I could be wit' someone who actually thinks the filet of fish is better than the Big Mac."

Theresa snorted, "Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself we aren't already dating."

Raphael threw her a look. "Going on dates is different than dating." He said seriously, missing the laughter in her voice.

Theresa looked at him and bit her lip. "Raph, I was joking. Although, it's nice to hear you admit that we've been on at least _one_ date."

Raphael growled and shoveled food into his mouth, trying to keep himself from having to clarify that he'd also considered the previous night as somewhat of a date.

The silence stretched on long after the apple pie had been finished, and Theresa finally looked at him and said, "Listen, I'm not trying to rush anything, I just like you. It's strange, I don't usually feel like this about anyone. And I keep thinking, _'he's a turtle, he's not the same.'_ But… I don't think I care…like _at all_. I just like you. How about… how about we just get to know each other? We can figure everything else out as we go."

Raphael refused to look at her, made himself look resolutely out the window. He knew he was a goner, knew that if she asked him again he'd have carried her off, back to the lair like some barbarian.

"We can be friends." He said, his breath fogging up the window.

Theresa waited for him to continue, and when he didn't she felt her heart sink. "Okay… friends it is." She said, her voice hushed.

She pulled out of the parking lot and back out into the street. She hated the silence, she could feel herself wanting to babble on like an idiot to fill up the lack of noise, but she held back.

Reaching out she flipped on the radio and changed it to a programmed station. Alternative rock began blasting through the speakers, and she heightened the volume to drown out her own plaguing thoughts.

_Oh, my life is changing everyday,  
In every possible way.  
And oh, my dreams, it's never quite as it seems,  
Never quite as it seems._

Theresa grimaced at the radio as the Cranberries belted out their happy tune.

_I know I've felt like this before, but now I'm feeling it even more,  
Because it came from you.  
And then I open up and see the person falling here is me,  
A different way to be._

Raphael sunk even lower into his seat, trying with everything in him to block out the resounding lyrics.

_I want more, impossible to ignore,  
Impossible to ignore.  
And they'll come true, impossible not to do,  
Impossible not to do._

Theresa's fingers itched to switch the station, to flip to a different song, a commercial even!

_And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don't hurt me.  
You're what I couldn't find.  
A totally amazing mind, so understanding and so kind;  
You're everything to me._

Fast as lightening Theresa's fingers struck out and flipped the station, her face contorted into and angry grimace.

'_Stupid song.'_ She thought bitterly, keeping her eyes well trained on the road.

She settled at a popular music radio station that was on a commercial break. She sighed, hoping against hope that the upcoming selection of music would be anything but an unrequited love song.

_The more I see you,  
The more I want you.  
Somehow this feeling  
Just grows and grows._

Raphael's jaw clenched and he turned narrowed eyes to Theresa, whose own face had gone incensed as Michael Buble's voice rang through the car.

_With every sigh I become more mad about you,  
More lost without you,  
And so it goes._

Suddenly there was silence as Raphael reached over and turned off the radio. The quiet ate back into Theresa, and she had to bite her lip to keep from spouting off random questions and comments.

The quiet lasted until Theresa pulled up next to an old and neglected two story house. The yard was clean, free of clutter save a cement bird bath and a tall oak tree. The house itself had at one time been white-washed, but the aging paint had never been replaced and was now chipping all along the siding. The roof was in the same condition, shingles missing in various places, and the front door contrasted oddly with the rest of the home, a bright yellow where the shutters were a fading blue.

Raphael stared at the home before looking at Theresa. "Where are we?" He asked.

Theresa took hold of her purse and placed her hand on the door handle.

"This is Romeo's mother's house. This shouldn't take long, I'll only be a minute." She answered, opening the car door.

Raphael slouched and nodded. He knew he couldn't follow her here, even if he'd wanted to. Her tone had left no room for the option anyway. He watched Theresa walk to the front door and wait for it to be opened. When it did, Raphael couldn't see the person who had answered it, but the conversation was short.

Theresa stood at the door, talking to whoever had answered it for only a moment before it was slammed shut in her face.

She stood there looking crestfallen at the closed door before turning and walking back to her car.

As she maneuvered behind the drivers seat Raphael thought she looked dejected.

"What was that about?" He asked, concern crossing his face.

"Mrs. Hart didn't want to speak with the woman who got her son twenty years in prison." Theresa elaborated shortly, her eyes carefully void of any emotion.

She pulled away from the home and drove back in the direction of her apartment, the silence that was only minutes ago maddening, a sudden welcome.

_**xxx**_

_**Authors note:**_ Well, I didn't want you guys to have to wait any longer, so here it is. There was more, but I cut it off and it will start the beginning of the next chapter. This was enough for this one.

Corbin (who is name is from the 5th element), is based almost directly off of one of my good guy friends. He says pussy a lot, and my response is always, "Don't say pussy, it sounds disgusting." And then he grabs himself. Nice, I know.

Theresa's car is an old friend of mine's car; she really did have to start it with a screw driver. Poor thing.

In case you didn't know, I don't claim anything over the Cranberries or Michael Buble (although I'd claim Mr. Buble if I could, that man is yummy).

Oh, and here's the translations from Spanish to English… and sorry for all the bad language in this chapter… it will get worse, I'm thinking. ;)

**1: He's got a death wish**

**2: That's the craziest thing I've ever heard.**

**3: Little sister can't just go walking around with nobody.**

Big thanks to all the people who reviewed. I love you, and I request more:)

And a special thank you to Lola, who is still the best EVER. Your praise shall not be lessened lady, you are the greatest.

**_xxx_**


	9. Chapter Nine, Cold Hearted

_**Chapter Nine: Cold-Hearted **_

_**xxx**_

Sometimes, when you least expect it, life jumps right up and bites you in the ass.

And then other times, like right now, life bites you in the ass and then leaves you with open festering wounds. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Raphael hated life's sharp teeth; they always ended up pissing him off. And life was a slippery enemy, because the only way to defeat it was to die, and that just wasn't an option Raph could afford himself.

Life was different for everyone. Most of the time, life was really hard. You struggle every day to make it through with sanity intact, only to have the world crumple out from under your feet just when you think you're getting ahead. The only thing that kept you pushing forward was life's little allowances, its little glimpses of happiness.

Life's little fuck ups.

And they _had _to be fuck ups, because in Raphael's experience, life just didn't hand you the happy moments on purpose. Life, that bastard, was always trying to wear you down with worry and pain and heart break.

But then, maybe the happy moments that made life seem like it was worth living, were all part of a grand scheme to make you think you had meaning, to make you feel important. Stupid notions like love would come sneaking into the picture, the enemy dressed up like the savior, and life would lure you into a false sense of security before, BAM! Life comes barreling in, knocking you out with one punch and leaving you gasping for air for years to come.

Life was a bitch.

And Raphael had the suspicious feeling that life was trying to lure him into a trap. Because when he was with Theresa, he was happy. He didn't know what it was, or why it happened, but when she smiled at him, his heart started racing a mile a minute, and he could swear that at any moment he'd start hyperventilating. She'd laugh, or smirk, or grin, and he'd feel his lips begin to twitch upwards, betraying his stubborn mind that was screaming to frown or snarl or sneer.

And when she talked, when she told a story or started rambling or asked him questions, he was eager for her to just keep right on talking. He could listen to her for days, he was sure of it. Maybe she felt like she monopolized conversations, but he didn't talk much anyway. And to him, her voice was a song, a lilting weave of confidant professionalism and girlish fantasy.

At this moment, however, Theresa was_ not_ talking. The silence she was creating was ripping into him like a knife, and the pressure he felt in his chest almost made him want to fling himself into oncoming traffic, just to stop the pain. Because God only knew it was painful. Why it hurt so much eluded him, but if she didn't start talking soon, even if it was only to scream at him, he though that he might collapse under the sheer weight of all this… _ache._

Theresa's eyes bore into the road ahead, but they told nothing of the anger, hurt, and turmoil that she must be feeling. Instead her large brown eyes were blank orbs of unreadable lack of feeling. Her face was a blank slate, and her lips, neither pursed nor frowning, left her looking frozen and empty.

She drove like this all the way back to her apartment, her gaze always held straight forward. Raphael tried to catch her stare on numerous occasions, and the few times that her head happened to turn in his direction, her eyes boar right through him, like he wasn't even there.

They had exited the dilapidated vehicle now, the passenger's side door creaking fragilely as Raph slammed it shut, and began walking to the alleyway that held the manhole to the lair. Still Theresa said nothing, not even glancing up at her apartment as she passed it and knelt down by the manhole.

Raphael threw a cursory glance up at her second story dwelling, and was surprised to see that the window had been fixed. It even looked as if a whole new frame had been added on, effectively replacing not only the broken pane of glass, but the entire window. He opened his mouth to tell Theresa this, and then clamped it shut quickly. She might be inclined to return to her home for the night, if she knew the window was repaired, and for whatever reason Raphael just wasn't ready for that.

Leaning down he pulled the manhole open, letting Theresa slid down first before he followed suite, closing the sewer's entrance with a resounding, _thunk_. As soon as Raphael's feet submersed into the murky water he began shedding his disguise, ripping the John Deer hat off furiously, and kicking the yellow rain boot off with a disgusted grimace. When he'd removed each item of clothing, however, he folded them neatly and hid them in a nitch of eroded brick that was covering the walls. No need to waste a perfectly good disguise, even if it did made him look ridiculous.

Theresa had waited for him without comment, her tennis shoes slowly filling with water, and her face a blank stare. Raphael looked at her and shrugged, motioning for her to begin the trek to the abandoned subway station.

They walked side by side, still in hush, and almost instantly Raphael felt himself begin to wage an internal war against himself. He wanted to comfort and console her. He wanted to stop and grab her and tell her that whatever she was thinking, whatever she was feeling, it would be alright. He wanted to say that he would help her, that he would do whatever she asked him to, anything that would make her happy again. Anything that would make her smile.

He wanted to apologize, say he was sorry for being such an ass in the car. He wanted to tell her that he felt that stupid electricity the same way she did. He felt it when their hands would brush together, when their eyes would lock, when she smiled at him. He felt it even when she wasn't around, that shock that ran through him just at the mere thought of her.

He wanted to tell her that all this emotion he felt for her terrified him, that it frightened him beyond belief. That three days was such a rush, he didn't know what to do with all these confusing thoughts. That it seemed like such a short time to feel so connected with someone.

He couldn't.

Time dragged on, and still his mouth refused to work. Saying what he wanted to say would only lead to trouble. And it would also place him well into life's wicked trap. He'd not felt exactly like this before, not so much raw passion for a person he hadn't even shared an intimate moment with, but he _had_ felt love. He'd felt love deep in his heart like there had been a vice squeezing it into oblivion. He'd loved Amber, and she had to go away. He'd loved Joy, and she hadn't returned the feelings. And he'd loved Mia.

God, he'd loved Mia. It was a fierce love, blinding and steadfast. He'd given her his heart so quickly, so absolutely, and it had been torn to pieces in the end.

Raphael made a sour face at the thought of Mia. Would it always come back around to her? Would he always live in her adverse shadow?

After everything that had happened between them, yes. He didn't think he could ever forget her words. They plagued and haunted him everywhere he went…

_**xxx**__(…flashback…)_

_It was winter in New York, and the chill was following Raphael everywhere he went. He had mixed emotions about this time of year, he loved the season, but he hated the weather. _

_The sewers were freezing, and Donny's ingenious seemed to fall short when it came to making the heat flow constantly in their home. He'd been cursing loudly when Raphael had left, and Michelangelo and Jade's laughter had followed him out into the sewers. Jade had screeched indignantly as a pillow had been thrown at her by Donatello, and a posturing Mikey had seen fit to imitate a knight in shining amour, proclaiming exaggeratedly that he would defend his lady's honor to the death. _

_Raphael rolled his eyes at the memory, wrapping the brown trench coat close to his body as he leaped roof to roof. Mikey would never grow up it seemed, even in his twenties. _

_After what felt like a lifetime Raphael reached his destination, and he couldn't help but smile. The lights were on in the tiny apartment, which meant Mia was up and waiting for him. It was late, and sometimes when she was too tired she would head off to bed, knowing that he'd just climb in when he got there._

_Raphael scaled down the building and landed delicately onto her balcony. He slid the unlocked window open and peered in, spotting Mia stretched out on her living room couch. A magazine lay forgotten next to her, and she was starring tiredly at the TV, her eyes glazed with exhaustion. _

'She works to hard,'_ Raphael thought to himself, before entering the living room and sliding the window shut behind him. _

_He turned to find Mia's eyes upon him, her gaze soft. He grinned, his heart leaping around in his chest at the sight of her._

"_Hey." She said simply, shifting her feet in a gesture for him to sit. Raphael acquiesced, sliding off his slicker and letting it fall forgotten to the cream carpeted floor. _

_The couch groaned with his weight, it being old and second hand, and he eased himself into it gradually, not wanting it to collapse with his mass. When he'd settled his weight, he took Mia's feet and guided them across his lap, massaging them absently as he focused his attention on the television. _

_The Charlie Brown Christmas Special was on, and Lucy was running around in circles on the screen, screaming about 'Dog germs!' Raphael cracked a smile, fondly remembering a time when he was younger, watching the show with the excited anticipation only the holidays could bring. _

_The screen faded, and the usual bombardment of holiday commercials began their tirade. A husband surprising his wife with a huge engagement ring, a family watching as their son discovered the puppy they'd purchased him for Christmas, a Bahamas luxury cruise just in time for the snowy weather. A local commercial played for a new restaurant, advertising that happy hour was free for couples only, at the hour of 10 pm. _

_Mia shifted uncomfortably and Raphael turned his head and gave her a questioning look. Mia shook her head, keeping her attention focused on the TV, and Raphael knitted his brows together before also turning his interest back to the glowing box. _

_The last commercial to play was depicting a young man and woman sitting in a living room, gathered around with family and friends. Gifts lay scattered neatly around everyone as they laughed and talked, but the chatter died down as the husband announced that they had one last gift. _

_The wife, smiling knowingly, handed what looked to be her mother, a large brown stuffed teddy bear. The white haired woman, sitting smiling next to her husband, squeezed the bear's plush stomach, only to have the sound of a strong heartbeat echo through the toys tummy. The wife, laying a hand on her stomach, said in pride and affection, "That's your grand-daughter Mom." _

_When the commercial ended, Mia sat up, pulling her feet off of Raphael's lap. Raphael turned his head to look at her, but Mia gazed firmly down at her hands, her eyes suddenly sad and miserable. _

_Raphael sighed, "Wanna talk about it?" He asked, suddenly wishing he hadn't come over at all._

_Mia shook her head, but immediately began to speak. "That… that can never be us Raph. None of it can." _

_Her eyes were still fixed on her now wringing hands, but Raphael could see the tears that had come to her eyes. _

"_Hey… its ok." He reached out a hand to touch her, but was surprised when she jerked away. _

_He looked at her, stung, his arm still outstretched, before letting his hand drop heavily. _

_Mia looked up at the television, watching for a moment as Charlie and Linus searched for the perfect tree. _

"_We can never get married, not really. We can never go on a real date, I can't introduce you to my family, and I can't introduce you to my friends. And we can never…" _

_Mia finally turned her head to look into his eyes, and Raphael already knew what she was going to say. _

"_No kids." He finished for her, his voice coming out a bit gruffer than he'd intended. _

_Mia, although she'd heard it before, looked heartbroken. "Are… are you sure? I mean, I know Donny say's its not possible, but what if it were? What if…?" _

_Raphael clenched his jaw. "Never gonna happen Mia. Aint none of our girlfriends ever gotten pregnant. And if Don say's it impossible, then it's impossible."_

_His voice was harsh, he knew, but he couldn't help it. She had known this from the beginning, and it seemed like dwelling on it was a waste of time. _

_Mia sighed, looking back down at the floor. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. _

"_Then I think… Raph, I'm not sure I can do this anymore." _

_In the background, Linus explained the true meaning of Christmas_

_**"And there were in the same country shepherds, abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them! And they were sore afraid ... And the angel said unto them, "Fear not! For, behold, I bring you tidings o great joy, which shall be to all my people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ, the Lord."**_

_Raphael couldn't even hear what being said amidst the ringing in his ears. What was she saying? Did she mean…? _

_When her words finally processed, Raphael sprang from the couch and onto his feet. _

_**"And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the Heavenly Host praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the Highest, and on Earth peace, and good will toward men." **_

_Raphael felt a panic building up in him and a slow rage ebbing its way to the surface._

_**"That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."**_

_Linus finished his speech and commercials began playing once more on the TV. Mia, still seated on the couch, looked at Raphael miserably. _

_Finally he could stand it no longer. "Why? Why did you wait this long. I told you… I TOLD you this is how it was!" _

_His voice had steadily risen to a yell, and Mia flinched before she stood as well. _

"_I just… I've been thinking about it for awhile and…" Her hand rose in a gesture that seemed to say, 'I've decided.' _

_Raphael stood perfectly still, his heart thumping so wildly he was sure it would beat right out of his chest. _

"_You've been thinking about it for awhile?" He echoed, his voice cracking mid sentence. _

_Mia bit her lip. "I know how that sounds but… Raph, I want kids. I want a real life, with real things. I want a house and a ring and a steady income. I want to go places and do things. And this is just too hard. We've been together for so long that-"_

"_Two years." Raphael interjected. "We've been together two years. And the whole time you KNEW this was how it had to be!" _

_Mia's sad demeanor seemed to melt away at this, and her cheeks flushed with anger in contrast to her pale skin. "I knew, but that doesn't mean I ever had to like it! Raph, this isn't good anymore! I just can't keep doing this. Its over." _

_Raphael's eyes widened. It hurt, like a fist to the stomach, for her to say it with such finality. _

"_How long have you know?" He croaked out, his breath coming in quick jabs. _

_There was a pause, and Mia seemed to think about whether or not she should answer truthfully. _

"_I've been… preparing myself." She said at last, her eyes flitting back to the ground, not able to meet his furious stare. _

"_Preparing yourself. PREPARING YOURSELF!" Raphael's arms flew into the air as his voice reached new levels of anger. "You're telling me its over, and the only explanation you can give me for being so unemotional, is to say YOU'VE BEEN PREPARING YOURSELF! What the FUCK kind of thing is that to say?" _

_Mia flinched at his words, but when her eyes locked with his, they were cold and determined. _

"_Listen, you need to go." She said, her voice completely detached._

_Raphael's jaw dropped. "What! You tell me its over and then you __**kick me out**"_

_Mia nodded and raised her chin in defiance. "I can't deal with you like this. If you want to talk about it, I'll be here tomorrow night, but until then just leave me alone." _

_Mia strode purposely to her window and pushed it open. She stood back and gestured at the exit, motioning for him to depart. _

_Raphael stood there, staring at her with disbelieving eyes. In the background music could be heard coming from the television, signaling the end of A Charlie Brown Christmas. _

"_**Hark! the herald angels sing, -  
"Glory to the newborn King!  
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,  
God and sinners reconciled."**_

_After a moment, Raphael moved forward, walking to the window and easing out onto the balcony. He looked in at her with a feeling of despair. _

"_I'll be over tomorrow night." He said softly, his emotions going every which way that he wasn't sure how to feel. _

_Mia nodded slightly before saying, "Goodbye, Raph." And then she closed the window. _

_Raphael had returned the next night to find her window locked, and her apartment dark. He'd returned three days later to see the same thing, only Mia seemed to have purchased a new couch. And he'd returned a week later to see another man in her apartment. _

_A man who gave her jewelry before he took her out to dinner. _

_**xxx**__ (…end flashback…)_

Raphael could still feel a shortness of breath at the thought of seeing Mia with another man, the thought of Mia moving on so quickly.

He looked over at Theresa, still quiet in thought, and shook his head. Theresa would be like Mia, eventually. She would realize that there were things more important in life than him, and she'd go away. Theresa deserved and normal life, with a normal husband, and a house full of beautiful children. She did not deserve the burden of an over large mutated turtle. She was better than that.

They had reached the entrance to the lair and Raphael, resolved that it was the right thing to do by not pursuing a relationship with her, still felt inclined to raise her spirits and reassure her about the day's happenings.

Before she could reach up and pull the lever to enter the subway, Raphael laid a palm on her shoulder. She turned to look up at him, her eyes questioning.

"Listen," Raphael started, trying to ignore that stupid shock that ran through him the moment he'd touched her. "I know your upset, but whatever that woman said to you, it doesn't matter."

Theresa's head cocked to the side, before she swallowed hard. "That's the thing. I was sitting there, thinking the same thing. If I get Romeo out of prison, it won't matter, she won't blame me for this. And then it hit me. If this all works out like it's supposed to, Romeo will get out, but Demetrius will be in. I'll still have sent one of her son's to prison."

Raphael grimaced. "It don't sound like she raised such good kids."

Theresa shook her head, her brows knit. "No, no she did really well with what she had. Her husband left when she was still pregnant with their fourth child, and she had to struggle to make it through every day. Her son's made the choices they made because of their environment… she… she really is such a nice lady, and I…" Theresa sucked in a ragged breath and clenched her jaw.

"I fucked up." She finished, looking up at him resolutely.

Raphael shook his head, placing his hands on each shoulder and turning her to face him directly, bending slightly at the knee in order to look into her eyes.

"Theresa, you did your job. You're _still_ doing your job. Whatever happens, it's because there are consequences tied to every action. A mother is always going to defend her son, you just have to make sure that it doesn't get in the way of doing what you know is right."

Theresa bit her lip and shook her head, looking down at the water flowing between them. Raphael dropped his head even lower, trying to catch her gaze once more.

"Theresa, I know you'll be ok. Everything'll work out fine. You gotta know that."

Theresa nodded and lifted her head to look at him.

In the very instant that their eyes met, the dynamic changed completely.

The mood shifted from consoling to electricity in a tail spin, and they both felt it instantaneously. Theresa's eyes, growing huge, muttered softly "Raph?"

Raphael didn't respond, couldn't respond. His hands were still covering her slender shoulders, and he griped her tighter as passion and mind numbing shock coursed through him.

He was on fire. It burned deep in his stomach and spread out to touch every part of his body. His mind was ringing in an attempt to gain control of his emotions, but it was drown out by the roar of new awakening's stirring in his body.

Theresa sucked in a deep breath through her nose, eyes still locked with Raphael's. They'd gotten darker, yet they were widened with surprise. Theresa, seeing he was immobile, took a step forward, her body lightly grazing his plastron.

Raphael held his breath, unable to tear his eyes away from her but also unable to move. She was close, so very close that he could see the tiny golden flick in her brown eyes, and the faint dusting of freckles that were scattered across her nose.

"Fuck." He breathed out, his voice sounding foreign and unsteady to his ears.

Theresa found it in her to smirk up at him before she reached her hand up and touched his upper plastron, her fingers tracing along the grooves of his chest plates. Raphael made a noise in the back of his throat, his hands gripping her shoulders tighter and pulling her flush against him, her warm body molding into his perfectly.

Theresa squeaked in surprise but recovered quickly, pushing herself hard against him and running her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, resting finally on his thickly muscled neck.

"This," Raphael croaked, panting slightly, "is a very bad idea."

As he said it his hands traveled down to her hips, gripping them firmly as he grinded the lower part of his abdomen against hers.

It sent a shock through Theresa that momentarily caused her knees to buckle. "Not… not a bad idea. A very good one actually." She actually moaned the words, barely able to say them, let alone think them.

Raphael grunted. "Bad idea." He said thickly, lowering his head to nuzzle the side of her neck, inhaling the sent of vanilla and sugar that surrounded her.

God he loved the way she smelled. It was always there around her, but right now it was driving him crazy. And mixed with the vanilla he could smell her, her intoxicating aroma that was making him slightly delirious.

He lifted his head, his breath coming in short stabs, and looked back into her eyes. She wanted him, it was there written in her face, and his head began to lower as his eyes moved to lock on her lips.

They were a breath away from sharing their first kiss when they heard the entrance to the lair slide open behind them.

Theresa jumped out of Raphael's arm quickly, her face instantly becoming red with embarrassment, and Raphael grimaced and looked to the door.

Michelangelo poked his head out, a large devious grin spread over his face.

"Hey there love birds! Watcha doin'?" He called out in a sing-song voice.

"Just got here." Raphael grunted in reply, scowling darkly at his youngest brother.

"Uh-hu, sure." Was Mikey's reply, his grin growing even wider at the response.

Raphael clenched his jaw and knew at once that his orange clad brother had been watching the surveillance monitor that was located just beside the entrance. The little sneak.

"Anyway… Amy's here bro. Poker night." Michelangelo stated, smiling unabashedly at Theresa.

Theresa bit her lip and smiled waveringly back, her face still hot with humiliation. Not that she was humiliated by the fact of almost kissing Raph, quite the opposite actually. But she did feel awkward about being interrupted, and she was becoming increasingly flustered at the mere thought of what had almost transpired.

Raphael glared at Michelangelo and nodded, walking to the door and stepping inside, Theresa dashing close behind.

As the entry slid shut, Theresa's brown eyes locked with a pair of calculating green ones. Amy sat, in all her tattooed and pierced glory, shuffling a deck of cards at the kitchen table and popping her gum nosily. Donnatello and Leonardo sat on either side of her, looking up from their conversation as they heard the three enter back into the lair.

Donatello instantly exited his seat at the sight of them and walked to Raphael, saying tersely that he needed to speak with him. Raphael nodded and disappeared from Theresa's side, leaving her to walk to the kitchen table with Michelangelo.

Amy looked her up and down, and Theresa knew without a doubt in her mind that she was about to be judged. The limited conversation between the two women at the hospital hadn't been enough to gauge one another's personalities, and Theresa knew that Amy was about to stamp the 'pass' or 'fail' label on Theresa.

_God, she hoped she passed. _

_**xxx**_

Authors Note: Ummm… you likey? I hope so, it took me awhile to finish this, and I want to apologize for the time it took me to update. Life came and bit me in the ass. :)

The whole 'I've been preparing' thing is derived from a personal experience. When me and my ex broke up, and I questioned as to why he wasn't more upset, his response was, "I've been preparing myself." I thought that was such a fucked up thing to say, so I added it to Raphael's experience. He handled it exactly as I did, the champ.

Big thanks to all my reviewers! As always, to Lola. I swear lady, your story is coming along, but there is just a shit load of things going on right now. :)

And a special thanks to Candlelit, who inadvertently helped me name this chapter. She commented on Mia, and I responded that Mia was a cold-hearted bitch. Hence the title…

_**xxx**_


	10. Chapter Ten, Implied Odds

_**Chapter Ten: Implied Odds**_

_Definition of a Tell in poker: _

_Tell. A clue or hint that a player unknowingly gives about the strength of his hand, his next action, etc. May originally be from "telegraph" or the obvious use that he "tells" you what he's going to do before he does it. _

_**xxx**_

He'd fixed her window…

He'd actually called, after breaking into her apartment the night before- with every intention of _killing_ her, and placed an order to have her window repaired.

He was a genius. Sometime he surprised even himself.

He wanted to scare her, he wanted her to play in this game of his. And that she'd included new people, that she'd brought these _men_ into this game, made it all the more interesting. They obviously didn't know who they were dealing with, what kind of man they had on their hands. He was going to rip them apart, and Theresa would have to watch while he did it. And she would be scared, she would finally feel terror clawing at her heart.

He'd always hated that fearlessness of her's, that head-strong, take-charge quality she possessed. Women weren't made to stay in line with the men. Women that were as beautiful, as flawless as she was, weren't _meant_ to do the things she did.

She was a successful lawyer, he'd seen her in action _plenty_ of times, and she was as ruthless and cutthroat as any man in the business.

At first, it had been the Colden name that had gotten her the attention. Her father had been a mastermind of law before he'd retired and gone into the gardening business.

And then people had gone and gotten themselves distracted by that pretty smile, that _charming_ allure, and she'd milked it for all it was worth. She had used those continuous misconceptions_ against_ people. She let them think they had her all figured out, that she was just some brainless, helpless child. And then when the time was right she'd pull out the big guns. She'd played along with all the other men, let them keep right on thinking that a girl like her wouldn't do much in the court room.

Now, after time had gone by, almost everyone in the business knew she was no trifle of a woman, knew she wasn't some 'legally blonde' reject. She was Theresa Colden, and instead of living in her fathers shadow and passing by on her looks, she was making a name for herself, destined to be even greater than her own blood, her own father, had ever been.

_Fucking bitch. _

How _dare_ she flaunt herself this way? She was his, and no one was aloud to see her like this. Not her other co-workers, not those ridiculous clients of hers, and certainly not this Raphael and Michelangelo.

He wondered briefly about the two men. Who were they? What kind of men attached themselves so quickly to a woman they barely knew?

It must be something Theresa was promising them. Defense in some court case perhaps (because, after all, it was probably some passing degenerate that had come to her rescue, New York was full of them). Or maybe she was giving then something else, something that involved a bit less clothing.

Yes, that was probably it. She was off screwing her knights in shinning armor as a thank you for their good deeds. Well, not for long. They would be dead, she would be his (willing or not), and then he'd take her life as well.

Life was going _so _well…

_**xxx**_

Donatello, having successfully cornered his hot tempered brother in the empty dojo, was looking at him now with nervous eyes. He seemed… annoyed.

"What Don?" Raphael snapped, his eyes narrowing at his younger brother.

Donatello actually shuffled his feet at that, and Raphael couldn't help but raise an eye ridge.

"What?" Raphael asked again, "Did you tell Mikey?"

Donny shook his head rapidly, making a face that conveyed his reluctance to even brooch the topic with their youngest brother.

"Then what do you want Don?" Raphael said, his voice completely flat. He couldn't pretend not to be disappointed in his brother, and he knew that the sooner this secret of Don's got out, the better. The more people that knew about this _before_ Mike, the worse it was going to be later.

Donatello's mood shifted then, and he gestured in irritation. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. That indicated, to a perceptive observer, that Donnatello was becoming distressed. The intellectual brother only lost his cool on a limited number of occasions, but it seemed as though the strings that held him together were slowly becoming unraveled.

The brother in purple took a harsh breath through his nostrils before beginning to speak.

"I went to Theresa's apartment, to have a look at her window…"

"Yeah, I saw you'd fixed it, nice work Don. " Raph interjected, his voice completely monotone, conveying the fact that he didn't really care.

Donnatello shook his head. "That wasn't me. I… I found this."

Don pulled a folded white envelope from his belt and held it out for Raphael to take.

Raphael's brows were knit together, and he cocked his head slightly in question before taking the small envelope.

It was light in his hands, but there felt as though there might be something inside of it, a note perhaps.

"What…?" Raphael's eyes narrowed to Donatello, who shook his head once more.

"Just open it." Was all that he supplied.

It was already open, so Raphael assumed that Donny knew what was inside. He reached in a finger and thumb, and pulled out a square object that was easily recognizable.

As he removed the envelopes contents, he saw that it was a single Polaroid, and his whole body stiffened as he saw what the picture depicted.

It was taken from Theresa's fire escape, that much could be discerned from first glance. And it was taken at night, so the photo wasn't as clear as it could have been in normal lighting. There was no mistaking who the picture was of, however.

Theresa, fast asleep in her large bed, her face turned toward the window as she dozed.

Raphael could feel his tunnel vision closing in, could feel the anger that was starting in from his toes and working it's was up the rest of his body.

"Read the back." Donatello said softly, watching his older brother carefully.

Raphael turned the picture with hands he hadn't realized were shaking. In bold black marker, scrawled neatly across the flipside, were the words: _**Taken four months ago. Please, Theresa, don't think I couldn't have had you long ago. And tell your new friends I say hello.**_

Raphael felt the picture slip from his hands as he clenched his fists. He was vaguely aware that Donatello was speaking.

"It was taped to her window. Her new, completely fixed, conveniently missing locks window." He said, his voice dry and even.

Raphael looked up sharply, "It didn't have _locks_?"

Donatello smiled sardonically and bent down to retrieve the snapshot. "No, no locks. Did you really think it would?"

Raphael's jaw was working furiously and he didn't answer. "He had the nerve to call us out Don. It says '_say hello to your new friends.'_ He means _us_."

Donatello raised an eye ridge at this. "Well, not _me_. You and Mike. Umm… is there any way he could have seen you two?"

Raphael shook his head. "No. The apartment was empty when we were there, and no one was on the street and… wait… _the phone_." Raphael put a large palm to his head and ran it over his face in frustration.

Donatello's eyes were questioning. "Hmmm?"

Raphael looked at him. "_The fucking phone_. When Theresa called, she said she could hear him walkin' around in her house. She's gotta phone in her room, and a phone in her kitchen. Don, he could've been listening on her phone in the kitchen. He heard me and Mike talkin' to her. Fucking sunnuva bitch. _Fuck_!" He practically spit the last part out, and if his skin had been of the paler variety, his knuckles would be white.

Raphael turned and stalked farther into the dojo and upon reaching his punching bag, wrapped with silver duct tape, he slammed his fist into it repeatedly.

**Thunk**, _swoosh_, **thunk**, _swoosh_.

Each punch resounded loudly in the small dojo, and the chain keeping the punching bag hanging from the ceiling creaked portentously.

Donatello cleared his throat, and it took a moment for Raphael to calm himself just enough to stop his assault on the worn sand filled sack and look back at his younger brother.

"Raph,_ think_ for a second, okay?"

Raphael narrowed his eyes until they were barely open, glaring at his genius brother with deep loathing etched on his face. Raph did not appreciate being told to _think,_ like he was some idiot who couldn't put two and two together. He wasn't as stupid as everyone thought. Hell, he'd figured out what Donny's secret was, and even Leo hadn't yet come to the same conclusion. Although, if Raphael was honest with himself, Leo was baring some heavy weight on his shoulders lately, otherwise he'd have figured it out long before Raphael had even known there was a problem.

"Think. About. What?" He enunciated each word with the deepest aversion and annoyance he could muster.

Donny rolled his eyes. "Think logically. First off, he's underestimating you two by even acknowledging you presence. He probably thinks you guys are some common street punks or something. And he's getting sloppy. He's exposing himself more. I bet, with a little digging, I could find out who placed this order. There can't be that many window repair shops in, oh… lets say a ten, hell, a _twenty_ mile radius. Maybe he used his real name."

Raphael wanted to fight, wanted to keep a hold of the anger that had built up in him, but he was disappointed to find it ebbing away. He needed to go check on Theresa, she'd been left on her own with Amy for to long… and Amy could be fierce, he knew. And he couldn't skip poker night, he never missed it.

"That'd be great Don, if you could look. Just give me a sec and I'll be out."

Donatello took the hint and turned to leave the dojo with only the slightest hesitation. At least, after all these years, Raphael had learned to tell his brothers to depart the vicinity _before_ he exploded on them.

Raph stopped him though, just before he could exit the room.

"Don," he said, his voice curt. "Don't show Theresa… just wait, till later."

Donny opened his mouth to argue, but closed it quickly when he saw Raphael raise an incredulous eye ridge. Instead he only nodded and left, shutting the door firmly behind him as he did.

_**xxx**_

_"Poker may be a branch of psychological warfare, an art form or indeed a way of life – but it is also merely a game, in which money is simply the means of keeping score." _

_By Anthony Holden_

_**xxx**_

Theresa sat at the kitchen table, her jaw clamped shut as she tried to keep down the wave of nerves that were threatening to overtake her.

She sat with Michelangelo to her left, and an empty seat to her right that was obviously meant for Raphael. The empty chair Donatello had vacated sat beside Mikey, and beside the empty chair, directly across from her, sat Amy.

Pleasantries had already been exchanged, and it was evident to Theresa that the woman was reserving judgment.

Curse words kept popping into her head, like _'Fuck'_ and _'Shit.'_

She was pretty sure that the reaction had to do with the fact Theresa knew that if she didn't impress Amy, that if Amy didn't like her, Raphael and the rest of his brothers would more than likely think less of her as well.

It was obvious that they cared for her, and the feeling was returned whole heartedly. Leo would smile, and she'd smile back. Mikey would crack a joke, and her eyes would light up as she hit him right back with a joke of her own. Leo would ask politely if she wanted anything, and she'd reply that no, she didn't. Then, almost as an after thought, he'd ask Theresa as well.

Theresa wasn't stupid. She'd taken enough Psych 101 in college to know that, even if the brother in blue didn't realize what he was doing, Amy was being established as the dominant female in the vicinity. Theresa could take a hint, and she made a mental note to _not _step on the girl's toes.

Amy was chewing her gum like a maniac, and was talking animatedly with Leonardo and Michelangelo. Her hair was short and spiked, black with red tips, and her arms were decorated with so many different tattoos that Theresa was sure it would take an entire day to thoroughly inspect each one. Although, she was sure there was a devil or a demon of some kind on her upper limb…

All the while Amy shuffled the slightly worn deck of cards, making them bridge and collapse over one another faultlessly. Poker chips were being divided into groupings by Leo, and it seemed as though Mikey's sole purpose was for comic relief. In fact, he was animatedly going through a very long and detailed joke that involved a Lion and a bag of tortilla chips.

Amy looked at Theresa with a small smile on her face, and nodded her head toward the still jabbering Mikey before rolling her eyes. Theresa smiled back and gave a slight nod.

"Hey! I saw that!" Michelangelo exclaimed, ending his joke abruptly.

Amy knit her brows. "Huh? Saw what?" Her facial expression was the mold of innocence.

Mikey pointed an accusatory finger at her. "I saw you two. Rolling your eyes. The joke is funny, I swear!"

Amy looked doubtful. "Well, it's a really long joke." She said carefully, averting her eyes from Michelangelo and studying the table top avidly.

Mikey let a look of mock hurt cross his face, a large hand pressed to his chest as if he were in pain.

"How dare you!" He exclaimed. "Remember how many times you told me that stupid knock, knock joke? Did _I_ ever tell you it was _too long_?"

Amy made a face of skepticism. "_I _told a knock, knock joke? Hmm… I must have been high…"

Mikey laughed at this, "Actually… I think you were."

Theresa shook her head at the two. She was sure that she had never met a pair of more completely random and unsystematic people in her life. Leonardo was grinning at the pair as well, although he looked away at Amy's omission to being high, as though if he ignored it he could pretend it didn't exist.

Amy's cat like eyes were suddenly on Theresa, her look almost predatory.

"So," she began, "You're a lawyer?"

The topic had shifted so quickly that Theresa didn't have time to cover her surprise. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before she answered. "Yeah. I work for Shade, Shempski, Colden, and Hunt."

Amy looked intrigued. "Ohhh, so your name's in the list, eh?"

Theresa laughed, pushing down the panic that had risen up in her chest like a flood. "Colden, yeah. It was really exciting to be taken in as a partner."

Amy was nodding in accord before she asked, "So, you must make a lot of money, right? Lawyers are stacked."

Theresa was immediately shaking her head in disagreement.

"That," she initiated, "is a common misconception. On TV, lawyers are portrayed as these big wigs with offices on the top floor of some swanky high rise, sitting behind an opulent mahogany desk.

They have these expensive luxury cars that cost more than some people make in their entire life, and they wear the most amazing designer cloths. What they forget to show is the reality of the situation. If you want to become a rich lawyer, a _successfu_l lawyer, you have to put in the hours. You need _volume_. You work constantly, and you basically don't get a life. You become cutthroat and heartless, and you take any case that comes your way because you want the money. You wanna be big time. And if you're not like that, if you can't handle screwing people everyday of your life, then you don't make money. I know people who spent upwards of six years in college only to make forty thousand a year as a practicing lawyer."

Amy was smiling, and her eyes swept quickly over the woman sitting across her before saying, "Well, you have on True Religion jeans, Diadora tennis shoes, and a Tuleh top. I'm guessing you're a successful lawyer."

Theresa gave a half smile at the woman's accretion. "I'm… smart. I represent rich Caucasian bastards that have too much time on their hands, trying to screw their exes out of alimony. I represent posh woman who are pissed because their boss said he liked the shape of her ass. And on the side, I represent some really nice guys who got handed a bad deal in life. I accept the green from _all_ of them."

Amy's eyes were bright with esteem. "Hell yeah!" She said, her smile wide and jubilant.

Leonardo, however, was shaking his head. "That sounds pretty bleak." He murmured, sliding a pile of blue, red and white poker chips towards Theresa.

"Bleak means miserable, and I am_ not_ miserable. I'm happy. The cases I take for divorces and civil suites are fucking stupid, no ones _really_ gets hurt at the end of the day, and I make money. The criminal cases I take are for people who really need it. Women who sell their body shouldn't have to pay the price for turning a trick for an easy buck, and guys whose options were to rob a bank at gunpoint or let their family starve deserve a fair trial with a _good_ lawyer."

Leo looked at her, his eyes calculating. "So no one gets repercussions? No one gets consequences? Everything can be blamed on the bad hand you got dealt?"

He though about his choice of words for a moment and swept his eyes over the playing cards in Amy's hand before adding, "No pun intended."

Theresa smiled at him, and there was no malice in it. He was a debater and a practical thinker, and he wasn't being mean or hostile. He just wanted to know her opinion. She could handle that.

"Everyone deserves to be innocent until proven guilty, its one of the foundations this country was built on. And life, as I'm sure you know, deals some very hard hands. There are certain circumstances in every case that should be examined before anyone starts to point a finger."

Leonardo grinned at her and Theresa smiled back. He didn't say anything else to her about it, but she was of the vague opinion that she had said something right.

When Donatello, and finally Raphael, entered the kitchen and sat at the table, everyone was more than ready to begin their card game.

Theresa looked questioningly at Raph (who seemed more than a little angry), as Amy dealt out the cards. He wouldn't meet her gaze however, so instead she focused on her hand.

Full House.

"You any good at this game Theresa?" Amy asked from over her own set of cards.

Theresa smiled. "Not really."

She laid her cards on the table and pushed them forward slightly. "I fold." She said, her face taking on a slightly bemused look.

She watched them play, and for five hands she folded premature.

_Everyone_ has a tell.

For Michelangelo, it was his eyes. The turtle in orange had big expressive blue eyes, and they lit up every time he was dealt a winning hand. It was the easiest giveaway out of all the brothers, and it seemed Theresa wasn't the only one at the table who knew it. Raphael and Donatello would constantly watch Michelangelo when he looked at his cards, and they would either fold or bet higher accordingly.

For Donatello, however, it was also his facial expression. His eye ridges would knit just slightly when he would glance at his cards, and he would arrange his deck perpetually when he had a good hand.

For Amy, it was her hands and her smile. She would tap on the table when she had an unbeatable set of cards, and she would try helplessly to keep down a smirk. She'd also sigh when her hand was bad, or bite her lip when she was trying to bluff.

Raphael was harder to figure out. His face was blank and cold as he played, and no one could elicit a reaction out of him as he laid down chip after chip, raising the steaks so high that everyone would back down, and he'd be left in the lead. His stoic demeanor would almost bully everyone into submission while he gained control of the table.

And Theresa kept getting distracted. She would look at him and remember that not but twenty minutes ago she had almost kissed him, that she had been wrapped tightly against his body. She would look over at him and see his face, then his shoulders, then his arms. Toned arms too, strong and lean. And they led down to large graceful hands. Hands that could touch and please. Hands that could protect and defend. Hands that flipped pokers chips easily over his three fingers as he laid down a straight flush. Theresa smiled. Raphael's tell were his hands.

She'd almost given up on Leonardo on the fifth hand. He was immaculate. Even after he'd won a play he wouldn't show any kind of emotion. He was too careful at times, folding when he should have bluffed, but that wasn't exactly a tell. Theresa watched him carefully from the corner of her eye, and just when she though all hope was lost, he clenched his jaw and called a bet.

She almost yelped in delight. It wasn't much to go on, but it was enough.

On the sixth hand, Theresa didn't fold, and she won half of her money back. Raphael glared down from beside her, but she just smiled and shrugged, saying innocently "beginners luck."

On the Seventh hand she took the entire table through a rousing bluff, and when no one could decide whether on not she was baiting them, they all folded. Michelangelo desperately tried to get her to show her hand after it was played out, but she'd shook her head firmly as she stacked her newly acquired chips.

On the Eighth hand they had her figured out. Amy was laughing and trying desperately not to tap her fingers, and beside her Raphael was complaining about overconfident female lawyers who lied and told everyone they couldn't play poker.

Theresa ignored him. She had a Royal Flush.

She let the betting go on for awhile until she went all in. Amy, Michelangelo and Raphael matched her, while Leo and Don immediately folded. By the end of the hand both Amy and Mike were out of chips, and Theresa was smiling wickedly as she arranged a mix of everyone's previous winnings in color coordination.

When it came down to the wire, almost an hour later, Theresa was left with Leonardo.

Raphael was smirking at her, and he kept craning his neck to try and get a look at her hand. Theresa ignored him and studied the turtle across from her. He was studying her right back. She kept her face impassive as she raised the bar, half of her own chips resting at the center of the table. He did the same, his face never twitching.

She was becoming frustrated when she had an epiphany. Smiling sweetly, she began to talk.

"Soooo… Leo. Tell me about yourself. Do you play five card stud often?"

Leonardo looked impassive for a moment before giving her a slight smirk, the corners of his lips barely twitching. "Are you trying to talk me out of information?" He asked.

Theresa gasped in mock indignation. "Me! I would never try to deceive you!"

Raphael huffed next to her and she shot him a scathing look that clearly said _'shut up!' _

Leonardo leaned forward on his elbows and looked expectantly at Theresa. She could feel her eye spasm.

"All in." She finally said, pushing her chips to the middle of the table.

Leonardo studied her for a moment before nodding once. "I say you're bluffing. I'm all in as well."

Theresa smirked. He was a determined SOB, she'd give him that. Especially since she really _was_ bluffing.

As they revealed their cards, Leonardo let a wide smile cover his features.

"A pair Theresa? All you had was a measly set of nines?"

Theresa glared at him, but couldn't help the smile the spread across her features.

"I was hoping you would fold." She complained, grumbling in irritation as the eldest turtle collected his winnings from the middle of the table.

"Ass." She shot at him, sticking her tongue out in his direction.

Leonardo only chuckled. "Very mature. This is what you get for deceiving all of us. You should always be honest when it comes to your dealings with others."

Raphael rolled his eyes next to her. "It's always a lecture." He mumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice.

Leo chose to ignore this and instead glanced at the wall clock above the stove. Theresa had seen him do this twice now, but this time Raphael's caught the gesture and followed Leonardo's gaze. Once Raph realized it was the clock he was looking at, he stared thoughtfully at his oldest brother.

"You wanna go?" He posed at last, his arms crossed over his chest.

Leonardo looked at him, his face as blank as it had been while they had been playing poker.

"I was thinking about it." He finally answered.

Before Raphael could say another word Michelangelo cut in. "Dude, just go. We'll take care of everything."

Amy was nodding and stretched her hand to lay it softly on his shoulder. "Splinter will be fine Leo. All of us are here. Just go."

Theresa had no idea what anyone was talking about, but she watched the conversation with rapt awareness. It seemed that everyone but her knew exactly what was going on.

It took a moment for Leonardo to come to his decision, but eventually he nodded and pushed away from the table. "Let me check on him, and then I'll go." He said, going to a section of the railway car that was completely darkened.

He entered and let the door shut carefully behind him, and Theresa looked questioningly at Raphael.

"Just wait till he goes, then I'll tell you." He said as way of answer from the corner of his mouth, his lips barely moving.

Theresa nodded once, and it wasn't but moments later that Leonardo reappeared, katanna's strapped securely over his shell.

"It was nice seeing you Amy, Theresa." He said with a slight nod, then waived and walked out of the lair. The door slid shut with a resounding creak, and it was completely quiet in the subway for a full minute.

Just as Theresa thought that no one was going to say or explain anything, Amy sang out in a high pitched voice. _"Ahhhhhhh, Pussy Control! Oh-oh!" _

Laughter burst from Michelangelo, and even Donatello shook his head and smirked.

Theresa was completely lost, and she looked bewilderedly at Raphael.

He was smirking, and he looked down at Theresa with humored eyes.

"Leo went to see a friend." He said, and after a slightly pregnated pause he elaborated, "A _girl_ friend."

Theresa's eyes widened in understanding as Mikey began chanting, "Leo's got a booty call…"

"He's held out for a while now, I can't believe he waited this long…" Donatello murmured, hiding his own smile behind his large hand.

Theresa was trying quickly to get over the fact that Leonardo had just left the lair to go have some kind of sexual relations.

"So this girl… is he _dating_ her?"

Raphael shook his head immediately. "Nah," He began. "They're just friends. Well, sortta. They met less than a year ago, he won't tell us how. But I guess they just… well… do it." Raphael shrugged at this explanation, and then added, "Guy's gotta get some somewhere… why not?"

Amy was nodding her head in agreement. "He stopped seeing her for awhile. I think he feels bad. And he hates to leave Splinter alone just to go topside and… _relieve_ himself. But…"

Theresa bit her lip, torn between wanting to know more about this situation with Leonardo (an unlikely candidate for the whole state of affairs), and the curiosity that gripped her at the mention of Raphael's sensei.

"What wrong with him?" She finally questioned, her curiosity giving way for more information on the mutated rat.

All eyes turned to Donatello after a slight pause, who groaned made a face at having to be the one to explain it all.

"He's just… sick. He got pneumonia last winter. Then he got the flu, and a virus. He's got arthritis and a weak heart. He's getting old and… there's not a lot we can do."

For a moment Donny looked lost, and his eyes held a glint of panicked decomposer at the mention of not knowing what to do for their father. It passed quickly, however, and was replaced by a look of quiet self-possession.

Theresa was lost in what to say for a moment before stating in a quiet undertone, "I'm sorry."

No one replied, and Amy stood and looked at Theresa pointedly.

"Hey, can you help me unload some of the supplies I brought? There just over by the couch." She asked, motioning with her chin towards the living room.

Theresa nodded instantaneously and shot out of her chair, following Amy away from the kitchen table and over to the den. There was a large duffel bag sitting next to the fading blue and grey couch, and both women leaned down and began removing medical supplies from it.

"I always say stupid stuff. I should have let it be." Theresa eventually declared at length, her voice quiet to keep from carrying to the kitchen. All four brothers sat at the table talking quietly, but neither woman could hear what they were saying.

Amy was shaking her head. "No, you were fine to ask. They just need to get over the fact that people are going to have questions about what's going on around them."

The girl glanced up at Theresa covertly before extracting a case full of boxed glass vials from the large bag.

"Besides," she began. "You don't have anything to worry about. They like you, all of them. And anyone who can make Mikey tell me a joke when he usually goes and hides in his room… well, they can't be harassed for asking a few well placed questions."

Theresa couldn't help the large smile that had plastered itself over her face. She was thinking that one way or another, she had passed judgment.

_**xxx**_

**Authors Note:** OMG!! I'm SO sorry that this took so long! I had a **huge **case of writers block. I actually had to go work on other things to get over it. I even wrote a short story about Mikey to get over the kick I've had for him lately. (Ok, so that was some shameless plugging, sue me :P).

Anyway, I tried to make this long, and things should move along more quickly now that I've finally gotten over this hump. This perpetually never ending day will finally be done with, and Theresa will move forward in time to Monday, her first day back at work. I'm so glad I can get what's coming next out of my brain and into my computer. Yay!

As always thanks to all of those who reviewed. You're all so wonderful! A special thanks goes out to Lola (you are the best EVER, and holidays should be named after you), Candlelit (why are you here? Go work on your story! J/K, XD), Puldoh (I don't think he's on drugs… but hey, who knows), Pretty Shimmie, OSR4ever, DemonicSymphony, brainfear, imthegreenfairy88, DarkNightChilde, and everyone else who took the time to read and review. And an extra, extra special thanks to Hipprincess, who took a guess from the challenge on my profile at who Mikey will end up with in the next book. I can't tell you if you're right yet though, it would spoil everything. :)

Hope you liked it, and please review! Really, it makes my day!

**_xxx_**


	11. Chapter Eleven, A Twist in Events

_**Chapter Eleven: A Twist in Events**_

**_xxx_**

What greater thing is there than for two human souls to feel that they are joined... to strengthen each other... to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.

George Eliot

_(…__flashback__…) _

_Michelangelo couldn't help staring. God, she was beautiful. Everything about her was just so perfect. From her brown hair, to her blue eyes, to the wide rip in the knee of her jean pants._

_Perfect. _

_And the thing that made it better, all the more tangible and genuine, was that she was normal. There was nothing particularly stunning or eye catching about her, she was just a regular girl. Her skin was pale, her eyes were large, and the color of her hair natural and straight. She would be considered 'pretty' in most circles of society, but to Mike, she was nothing short of drop dead gorgeous. _

_She was his Jade. _

_He lay on her soft bed, stretched out in languid succor. He was missing all things that could be considered clothing. His knee, elbow, and wrist pads had all been taken off and tossed onto the carpeted floor, and his bandanna was laying on the oak nightstand to his left. Michelangelo's head was propped up on a pillow, and he was watching Jade through tired, half closed eyes as she moved around her bedroom, dressing hurriedly._

"_What's the rush babe?" He asked, his voice slurring as sleep attempted to drag him under. _

_She turned from her dresser, pulling a loose fitting tee shirt over her head. Mikey was pleased to see that it was one he'd gotten for her. The blue one he'd had Amy purchase for him that matched her eyes almost perfectly. _

"_I've got to work, I'll be late if I don't leave in five minutes." _

_Michelangelo groaned, burying his face into the pillow, turning his body away from her and exposing his shell. _

"_Call off!" He complained, his voice muffled. _

_Jade laughed and reached down to grab his leg, her fingers closing tightly over his ankles. "Oh no you don't! I'll get fired if I keep calling off. Come on, get up." _

_She began tugging on his foot, trying with little effect to pull him off the bed. Fast as ever, Michelangelo sat up and grabbed her arm, pulling her down on top of him. She squealed and laughed, beating on his chest lightly. _

"_Lemme go Mikey!" She yelped. _

_Michelangelo's grin was devious. He moved his fingers over her rib cage, tickling her lightly. She screamed and flailed about, and he couldn't help but smirk and tickle her more. He loved that she was so sensitive. It was somehow comforting to know that if he ever needed to hear her laugh, it was this simple. _

_She was gasping for breath, and he stopped his assault, her body now trapped under his. She glared up at him, her breathing still heavy, and pushed on his chest. _

"_You butthead. Come on, let me up. I'm going to be late." She was trying to keep her laughter down as she said all this, but her eyes were bright with happiness. _

_Michelangelo didn't budge, but just stared at her in quiet affection. He brought his head down to her neck, breathing her scent in deeply before lightly kissing the skin that was there. _

_The light pushing from her hands stopped, and he heard her titter softly beneath him. _

"_You want more already Mike? You were about to fall asleep two seconds ago…" She said softly, her hands wrapping tightly around his shoulders. _

"_I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die" He murmured, his mouth grazing her ear. Jade's breath sharpened, and her back arched slightly to rub against him. __  
_

"_Till the sun grows cold," His lips kissed up her jaw line and her chin, his hands moving to entangle themselves in her long hair. _

"_When did you learn poetry?" She whispered, moving her head to try and catch him in a kiss. _

_Mikey just grinned, avoiding her mouth and moving his head back down to her ear._

"_And the stars grow old..."_

_His lips brushed the lobe of her ear before he pulled his head back and stared at her face, their eyes meeting._

_His smile was thoughtful as he finished, "And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold."_

_Jade's grin was wide as she brought her head up to kiss him. He returned the kiss, and it was full of heated passion and longing hunger. Her hands were running up and down his plastron, and her legs hooked themselves around his calf muscles. She sighed against his lips, and he could feel her smiling against his flesh. _

"_So, you'll stay?" He asked suggestively, his thumb brushing her hip bone and moving deftly to the button on her jeans. _

_She broke the kiss, her eyes bright and pleased _

"_You are __so__ going to get me fired." She said, before pulling his head down and engaging him in a long kiss. _

_Michelangelo laughed in success before expertly unbuttoning her pants. God was she beautiful._

_**xxx**__ (...__end flashback__…)_

The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.

Ernest Hemingway

_**xxx**_

Theresa looked at herself in the mirror. She couldn't say she wasn't pleased. The bruise on her forehead was practically vanished, and the markings around her neck were completely gone. Her hair, more the color of honey than it actually was blonde, fell loose to frame her face and ended in ringlets at the middle of her back. Her make-up was sparse and the only thing she had really applied was foundation, mascara, and lip gloss. She wore a faultless blue pinstriped skirt and matching suit jacket, and her Kate Spade black Kalista flats made for trendy but comfortable wear.

She looked good, and she knew it. She didn't care that it was a bit vain of her to acknowledge her own beauty. Hell, it made her a better lawyer by doing so. It helped in the business to be confidant, as long as she didn't let it go to her head.

She sighed and turned away from the mirror, exiting her bathroom. Her apartment was bright and welcoming at the moment and it made her smile just to be there, no matter how early in the morning it was. For the first time in days she felt completely safe.

She entered her kitchen to the welcomed aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and she breathed deeply to let it soak in. There was nothing like a pot of coffee to get her going in the morning, and she poured herself a large mug full. As an after thought, she glanced at the lump on her couch and pulled down a second mug, filling it with the dark liquid as well.

Carrying both mugs to her kitchen table she sat them down carefully. She then retrieved her purse and her leather satchel from the closet in the hall and sat down with both items at the table, seated facing her living room and the large breathing form that was sleeping on her couch.

She sighed and removed a notepad from her bag, along with a fountain pen. She opened the notebook to the first page and let her gaze drift down at it. It was chock full of names.

Raphael had coerced her into making _'a list of potential suspects.'_ She'd not known who to put on it, so he'd tried to make it simple for her.

"_Everyone."_

_Theresa scowled up at him, her hands on her hips. _

"_**Everyone**__. What the hell Raph, do you want my parents on there too?" _

"_Sure. And while you're at it, add you delinquent brother. Hell, he can be suspect number one." Raphael snapped. _

_Theresa's eyes widened as her mouth dropped. "You ass! He's a fuck up but he's not a stalker! And besides, the guy that had me cornered in the alley wasn't my brother, he was too tall." _

_Raphael glared at her. "Fine. Whatever. I'll add him myself. In the meantime, I'm dead serious. I wanna list. Co-workers, friends, clients. Hell, give me the names of the people you barely know." _

_He ticked off each category on his fingers, his eye ridges knit in aggravation. _

"_If I barely know them what makes you think I know their names?" Theresa snarled, her voice rising as she took a step towards him in anger. _

_Raphael's face twitched and he took a careful step backwards. They were in his room after all, no need for temptation. _

"_Well then ask them their names. Don's up at your apartment right now adding surveillance, I think writing down a few names is the __least__ you can do." Raphael curled his lip, looking somewhat feral._

_Theresa turned red. "I know it's the least I can do!" She yelled, standing on her tiptoes as she screeched it._

_There was a slight pause, and her brows went together in thought. _

"_Ummm… yeah. I guess it __**is **__the least I can do…" Her voice had calmed considerably, although her breathing was still a bit heavy, and she looked away from the large turtle in front of her to stare past his shoulder. _

_Raphael shook his head, but he couldn't help the small smile that had graced his lips. _

_Theresa glanced at him and smiled as well, taking a small step back to the middle of his room._

"_Sorry. I'll… I'll make you that list." She said, taking another full step backwards and clasping her hands in front of her. _

"_S'ok. You, uh, were probably right though. Your brother prob'ly aint the one doin' this. I just…uh… got carried away." _

_Theresa laughed lightly. "Hmmm… maybe just a bit. I'll make the list though. Happily." __xxx_

That had been Saturday night, before Raphael had taken her back up to her apartment. She'd ended up staying in the lair until Donatello had finished "hotwiring" her home.

And hotwire it he certainly had.

The whole apartment was on video camera. Her fire escape, her bedroom, her living room, her front door, and the alley between her apartment and the neighboring pawn shop all had been installed with small and discreet surveillance cameras. They were all hooked up to the live feed in Donatello's own room, where he and his brothers were taking turns keeping an eye on Theresa's apartment. She had made a mental note to herself _not_ to go walking around the house naked anymore.

Donny had also equipped her with new locks and a brand spanking new bedroom window. The new window Donatello had installed came complete with its very own set of keys, which had the ability to be unlocked only from the inside. Donny had told her that the dead bolts on the doors and window alone were quality enough for a maximum security prison.

That had been a comforting and slightly disturbing thought.

Theresa turned her attention back to the paper in front of her. She'd marked it off into sections. And just to please Raphael, she'd made a list of everyone she knew.

**Theresa Colden's list of "Potentials":**

_Dan Colden (Father)_

_Shelly Colden (Mother)_

_Thomas "Tommy" Colden (Brother)_

_Quillan Short (Best Friend)_

_Shar Hart (Friend)_

_Romeo Hart (Friend/Client)_

_Demetrius Hart (Client)_

_Corbin Castillo (Friend/Client)_

_Emanuel Vasquez (Client/Friend)_

_Lawrence Shade (Co-Worker)_

_Ethan Shempski (Co-Worker)_

_Justin Hunt (Co-Worker)_

The list continued on down the page, but these names were the most significant, in her opinion anyway.

She sighed. There were people on this list that she could almost guarantee _weren't_ her stalker. Like her parents or her brother. And there was no doubt in her mind that her best friends, Quillan and Shar, were even capable of being her stalker. They were females, women, and the _man_ who'd had her pinned to the brick alley wall had definitely been of the male variety. That much she _knew_ was certain.

And then there was Romeo, Lawrence, and Ethan.

Romeo, who was Shar's husband and was also her current client, was incapable of being a suspect because he was incarcerated. Beside that, he was a friend. He was funny and charming, and he always gave her the information that he had to give when she was working on cases he was familiar with. He and Shar had a wonderful family, and she spent a great deal of time with them and their children.

Lawrence Shade, who was the head partner at the firm, and more like a father figure than a boss, was just as null and void in her mind. He was her good friend and her confidant. He had a head full of sliver hair, and his blue eyes were forceful and intelligent. And while he was about the same height as her stalker, the voice didn't match up. He had a nice baritone, and he certainly didn't raise his voice… often. Besides that, he was getting along in the years to be chasing down young women. The man who'd assaulted her was fit and athletic, and while Lawrence was far from being out of shape, he was also nearing 65.

And then there was Ethan Shempski. During this whole fiasco her co-worker had been out of the state, visiting relatives in Iowa. He was Lawrence's long time friend, and was also a senior partner at the firm. He was in his late forties by now, and was just starting to gray at his temples. He was half Jewish, inheriting his Fathers dark hair and sharp facial features. But his Mother had been a European model, and he'd gotten his elevated height from her side of the family. He was a nice man, and often Theresa found herself asking for his advice on a particularly trying case, or listening to his mild mannered story telling abilities. This caused her to rule him out instantaneously. He was _mild mannered_, and the man from the alley had been harsh and rasping, with a cruel voice.

These men _could not_ be her stalker.

Her eyes skimmed to Corbin's name. She resisted the urge to scratch the name out entirely. Raphael would jump on his name in a heart beat, she knew he'd find any excuse possible to track her improvident friend down and pin this all on him. She had written friend first, and it had taken her a moment to realize that he was also a client. He was like her brother, except he was slightly more dependable than her actual blood, and far more inclined to have a less than brotherly love and affection. He was flirtatious, yes, but he was also loyal to a fault. He was, despite all of his character faults, a good man.

That left her with Demetrius Hart, and Justin Hunt.

She hadn't yet met Romeo's brother, but seeing as she would be putting him in jail today, it was likely they would come face to face. She figured he would look like his older brother. Less scarred and age worn, perhaps, but dark and strikingly handsome she was sure he would be. Theresa narrowed her eyes at his name. She couldn't really discern what his motives would be (besides keeping her from coming to the conclusion that it was Demetrius himself robbing banks, not his own brother), but the implication and possibility was there, that was for certain.

And finally, there was Justin Hunt. Before all of this, she hadn't given that arrogant, self serving bastard a second thought. But now… now he was suspect number one. He fit the slate perfectly. He was tall and athletic, and he could have easily kept up with her during his chase. It was no real secret that she didn't care for him, so there could be a chip on his shoulder from that. And he'd been there that night. He was the one who had left only moments before her, exiting the office just _minutes _before she'd decided to go home. He was abrasive and rude. And more than all, he had that look in his eyes. That glinting, hawk eyed glare that he saved for her when he thought she wasn't looking.

Theresa shifted uncomfortably in her chair. It bothered her, thinking that a man she had worked with for upwards of a year could have been stalking her for the better part of it.

She tore the paper out of its spiral binding and folded it neatly. God she hated this. Part of the reason she'd not wanted to make a list was because it made everything more real. It was much easier to ignore it all, to ignore the fact that her life was in danger.

The lump on her couch moved, and she glanced up at it. Her eyes glided over to the clock before looking back at the figure that was twitching on her living room furniture.

A large, green, two toed foot shot out from under the covers, and the body of the large turtle was suddenly trembling. She saw him shudder, and he was beginning to moan and mutter under his breath.

Theresa hesitated before calling to him softly. "Ummm… Mikey? Mike, wake up!"

Michelangelo jerked at the sound of her voice and heaved upwards, his eyes flying open as his strained voice shouted, _"Jade!"_

Theresa's eyes widened. From his position on the couch, and her own at the kitchen table, they were facing one another. The turtle in orange was breathing heavily, and he looked utterly confused, his eyes roving around his surroundings in a slight panic. He looked almost like a wild animal, trapped and feral, before his eyes finally rested on Theresa.

He sucked in large quantities of air through his mouth, breathing heavily as though he'd just been put through a scrupulous work out.

Theresa couldn't help the look of shock that had etched itself onto her face. This had been the last thing she'd expected, although Raphael had warned her about Mikey's reoccurring dreams and nightmares.

Raphael had stayed with her the night before, on Saturday, while Michelangelo kept a vigilant watch at the roof of the pawn shop across from her apartment.

They'd watched The Maltese Falcon (Theresa had teased him some more about Private Investigating), and then they'd called it a night. Raphael had avoided her completely. He said less than five words to her the entire evening, and he'd made sure to sit on the opposite side of the room whenever they were together.

Michelangelo's stay had been different. They'd watched a Bruce Lee marathon and ate popcorn until two in the morning. It had been a foolish thing to do, seeing as she had to work the next morning. But every time she had said she needed to go to bed, Michelangelo would pull her back down on the couch and either engage her in conversation or start a pillow fight. He'd slept on the couch grudgingly, complaining that her bed was probably much more comfortable. When Theresa had pointed out that she herself was in aforementioned bed, he'd shrugged and said _'the more the merrier.'_

He wasn't joking and flirting now, however. He looked almost as thought he was in pain. Theresa bit her lip, her eyes never breaking contact with Mikey's large blue ones.

"You want some coffee?" she asked timidly, her voice nervous but soothing.

Michelangelo nodded once, looking down at his lap and taking three deep breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

He stood from the couch, tall and lean on unsteady legs, and walked lethargically to the kitchen table and Theresa, taking his seat across from her.

Theresa watched him take a sip of the jet black liquid before asking, "You ok?"

He shrugged, his eyes staring down at the table and refusing to meet her own. He was missing all articles that he usually wore, including his orange bandanna. Theresa found herself thinking once more that he didn't look the same without it. He looked vulnerable like this.

"Do you… do you dream about her a lot?" Theresa eventually asked, hesitant to even brooch the subject with him, afraid of his reaction.

Michelangelo looked up at her, his face carefully blank. Finally, just when she thought he wasn't going to respond, he said flatly, "I dream about Jade every night."

There was an awkward silence at his proclamation, and Theresa felt a pathetic tugging at her heart as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Do… did you ever think about maybe taking a sleep aid?" She asked finally, wary with every word that came out of her mouth that she may be taking the conversation to far.

Michelangelo was immediately shaking his head.

"No." He said, "No I can't do any of that."

Theresa's brows met in slight confusion. "Why not?" She asked.

Mikey looked conflicted for a moment, as though he was unsure that he wanted to continue.

"I just… I just know me. My brothers already think I'm not handling all this very well, and sleeping pills… It would just been one more problem, you know? I know what would happen"

Theresa was now looking very bemused and faintly alarmed.

"What would happen?" She questioned as her voice strained and raised an octave.

"If I started taking sleeping pills, I wouldn't stop." He paused and looked at her, his eyes suddenly full of pain. "Do you… do you know how _hard_ this is?"

It wasn't a question that was meant to be answered, because Mikey continued immediately, his voice full of tense emotion.

"This is _so_ hard. I can't… I can't do _anything_. I smoked pot already with Amy, twice actually, and it's just _so hard_ not to do it all the time. Cause I _like_ the way that made me feel. It helped me… forget. And besides the fact that I don't want to be addicted, I don't really want to forget her. But this pain… this pain I feel everyday. I'd do anything to make that go away."

Michelangelo sighed heavily, "I just. I know me. I know that smoking, or drinking, or popping pills will just make it worse later."

Theresa watched as he shifted in his chair, his face changing from a quiet hurt to an abrupt frustrated realization that he'd just confessed an awful lot to a woman he'd only know for less than a week.

"Hey, at least you know that much." Theresa said softly, reaching her hands across the table and tightly grasping each of his.

Michelangelo jerked his head up, the surprise clear on his face. Theresa couldn't know, however, that this was the first _real_ physical contact he'd had with anyone since Jade's death.

He clutched her small hands tightly in his own after a moment, his jaw clenching repeatedly in an attempt to control his emotions.

"I just… sometimes I think it might be better, if I found an outlet like that. The pot… it really would work. For a while at least. And I think I'd be an okay alcoholic… maybe. But I can't do that to everyone. I can't hurt then like that. And they'd just end up taking care of me, and I _definitely_ don't want that. I don't want anyone taking care of poor baby Mikey anymore."

He looked at their joined hands, his adam's apple moving up and down as he swallowed.

"I miss her." He said, his voice steady and carefully withholding any kind of feeling or sentiment. Only his considerable squeezing of her hands let Theresa know how painful it was for him to say it.

"Tell me about her." She said, grasping his palms tighter, moving her head to try and catch his eyes.

Michelangelo avoided her gaze, keeping his eyes fixed and unwavering on the smooth and polished table. His voice was semi flat when he began to speak, but his hands held Theresa's in a death grip, as though he were clinging to her for his very life.

"She was… fun. She was easy to talk to and she had this really great laugh, kinda bubbly. She hated pineapple but she loved it on her pizza... which never made sense to me."

Mikey swallowed and took a moment to breath, in and out, trying to get some kind of grip on his emotions.

"She always called me, right before she fell asleep. She'd tell me it was cuz' she wanted to hear the sound of my voice, which was cool, because after awhile all I wanted to do was hear _her_ voice… I ended up practically living there, in her apartment. Oh, and she knew, like, every word to Joe verses the Volcano.

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and continuing on the same thread, his voice completely void of any kind of emotion.

"She was really laid back. She liked to just hang out, you know?"

There was another pregnated pause, and Theresa saw his mouth twitch just slightly in a vague smile. His eyes were glazed in memory, telling clearly that he was sorting through past recollections, things that he'd been trying to forget these last sad months.

"She was really beautiful. She had long brown hair and blue eyes… big eyes too. She was short and uh… really skinny. She didn't have much of a figure… but she ate like a horse. We'd get into these eating contests sometimes and even though I'd always win, she still ate like a whole pizza on her own."

Theresa was watching him carefully, and although there was a part of her that wanted to break down and cry for the injustice of all this, Mikey's vice like grip kept her in check. She knew that she had to be strong for him, that if she just let go and cried, he'd never trust her this way ever again.

Michelangelo continued, his voice a bit rough but otherwise the same as before. "She was a really nice person. She was sweet and, like, someone you'd want to know and be friends with. She'd just go outta her way to help someone or to be nice to them or to make them happy. And she was smart. And I mean _really_ smart. She was going to college, she was going to be a teacher…"

He sighed, finally looking up at Theresa. "What time you gotta be at work?" He asked, removing his hands from her own.

Theresa retracted her arms from across the table and checked the watch on her wrist. "I leave in 20 minutes. It only takes me about ten minutes to walk to the office… two if I drive… if the car starts."

Michelangelo expelled a shot of air from his nose in what could have been a small laugh.

Theresa took a careful swallow of her coffee, a question on the tip on her tongue that she was to uncertain to ask.

"Just ask." Mikey said, his eyes boring into her.

Theresa gauged him, waging an internal battle with herself. If she asked and he answered, it would be a good thing. But if she asked and had crossed the line, the trust would be broken.

Resolved, she leaned forward in her chair, her hands wrapped tightly around her mug, and said, "What changed?"

"Hmm?" Michelangelo questioned, sipping his own coffee.

"What changed? You… She broke up with you. What… why?"

Fear was clawing at Theresa. Their eyes were locked and she couldn't break the gaze no matter how much she wanted to.

Mike looked for a moment as if he was not going to answer. Then, finally, he took a deep breath and said. "I don't know."

Theresa bit her lip as the turtle across from her continued.

"We just kinda fell apart. I mean, I guess. I sort of thought we were fine, you know? And then she just calls me one day and tells me we need to talk. She told me it was over. That was it. I don't… I don't know what happened."

Theresa shook her head. It couldn't be as simple as all that. There had to be more to it, a better reason than _'just because.'_

"I think maybe she was seeing someone else." Mikey said quietly, breaking her thoughts.

Theresa jerked her head up, looking at him in surprise. "Are… Are you sure?" She asked, brows raised high.

Mikey nodded. "Yeah. Uh… that day, the day she called and said we needed to talk… the day she was killed. It was like three months after we'd broken up and I… I think maybe she was seeing someone. I saw things in her apartment… two cups, two bowls… like maybe they'd had breakfast together before he left. She was packing…"

He shrugged, his jaw clenching and a lost look deep in his eyes.

There was another question that he'd left open, and she'd opened her mouth to ask it when Michelangelo looked up at her.

"I killed him. The guy who murdered Jade. I killed him."

Their eyes met, Theresa's wide and Mikey's flat and serious and dead.

"I killed him slowly, Theresa."

He was testing her. Theresa knew it instantaneously. He wanted to see how she'd react to this new information. And it was what she had wanted to know, wasn't it? She'd wanted to know what he had done, had wondered about it since Raphael had dropped her that ominous hint during their date. He'd said, _"he was dead already though… so no trial."_ And she'd wondered, always in the back of her mind, how the man who had murdered Michelangelo's lover had died. How that man had ended his days.

And now she knew.

"I think," Theresa started, wavering only slightly, her fingertips clutching the end of her table. "I think, that if I walked in and saw what you saw… I think that I would have done the same thing. I think that maybe its human-… that it's instinct. To protect and seek retribution. To lash out… to get revenge"

Michelangelo cocked his head to the side. "Maybe." He said thoughtfully, taking another drink of his coffee.

There was a stiff pause that stretched for almost a full minute. Mikey sighed and sat down the mug, stretching his hands across the table and taking Theresa's palms once more, almost prying them from the death grip she had on the table.

"Wanna go on a date?"

Theresa stiffened and resisted the urge to pull her limp hands away from Michelangelo's

"What!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide and shocked.

Michelangelo grinned like a cat that had just eaten the canary.

"A date." He said, his tone completely cavalier.

Theresa hastily removed her hands from Mikey's, placing them safely in her lap. She was now wondering if her simple gesture of comfort had been taken the wrong way.

Michelangelo chuckled. "I have a plan." He said, gesturing with an outstretched arm for her to place her hand in his once more.

Theresa hesitated before replacing her small right hand into his much bigger left one.

"What kind of plan?" She question with hesitation, her lips pursing.

Michelangelo gave her a devious half-smile.

"The make Raph jealous plan." He said, waggling his brows.

Theresa was immediately shaking her head. "No." She said firmly.

"What! Why not? Come on Theresa, I know he likes you. This would, like, give him a shove in the right direction!"

Theresa couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "What makes you think he even _likes_ me?"

Mikey gave her a look that clearly said _'I'm not that stupid.'_

"No really," Theresa reassured. "He's completely resistant. He wants nothing to do with me, he said so himself."

Mikey was shaking his head. "No way. He's just being an idiot. There was this girl… Jesus, it's been like two years ago. But she really broke his heart, you know? They were together for awhile, and then she ended it. Wanted children… well she was kind of a gold digger too. I dunno." He shrugged.

"So… so you think he doesn't want to move forward because he thinks I'll be like her?" Theresa asked.

"Well, I mean, he _wants_ to move forward… I _saw_ that much."

Theresa glared at him, pulling her hand away from his. "You're such a peeping tom. I totally forgot about that."

Michelangelo put a palm to his chest and pulled a mock look of hurt on his face.

"Me! I just thought I heard you guys out there. I didn't know I'd catch you two on the verge of making out!"

"Please. You knew you were interrupting us. And maybe if you had let it happen we wouldn't have to trick Raph now."

Michelangelo broke into a wide smile. "So you'll do it then? Go on a date with me?"

Theresa sighed in a defeated manner. "I don't know Mikey, it seems so wrong…"

"No way babe! It's a totally great plan. He's definitely the jealous type, it'll make him see the light about you, I promise."

"Or he could get the wrong idea and think I'm just using you." She interjected, biting her lip at the thought.

Michelangelo's eyes twinkled. "Trust me, I'll make sure he knows this was all me. And hey, if he still doesn't see in you what _I_ see… well, you've got _me_ to fall back on."

Theresa laughed and cocked her head at him. "You see something in me?" She inquired thoughtfully.

Mike smiled and nodded. "Of course babe. You're the best."

Theresa gave a quiet laugh and reached across the table to squeeze his hand.

"Alright." She said. "Lets make Raph see something too."

_**xxx**_

It was ten minutes later, in the alley way between Theresa's apartment and the neighboring pawn shop, that she and Michelangelo waited for Raphael.

Mikey had re-adorned his orange bandanna, and it was fluttering behind him in the slight breeze, accenting his blue eyes markedly.

Theresa sighed and glanced upward at the rooftop of the pawn shop. The turtles had decided (or rather, Raphael had decided) that while one brother was staying the night at her home, the other would take up post across the street, watching for anyone suspicious hanging around the neighborhood, or perhaps another appearance by her stalker and would be murderer.

Both Raphael and Michelangelo had agreed on this idea, Mikey almost as heatedly as Raph, and Theresa couldn't help but wonder if they actually stayed awake all night, observing the streets and her bedroom window. She was almost sure that they did.

Michelangelo hazarded a glance at his female companion from the corner of his eyes, and smiled.

"Can't wait to tell him the news, huh babe?"

Theresa rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder lightly.

"Shut up. I think this is a bad idea. I think I should just fall back on my original plan."

"Which was?"

"Wear low cut shirts and get him alone in dark places."

Michelangelo laughed. "That would take longer than my idea. Besides, why would you want to pass up more time with me? I'm awesome!"

Theresa huffed and muttered inaudibly, but Mikey just kept on grinning.

There was the almost unheard sound of feet dropping to the ground behind the pair, and Michelangelo immediately heard it. Theresa, however, heard nothing.

Mikey gave a covert glance at Raphael, who was standing behind them, arms crossed and shaking his head at Theresa's exposed back.

"Theresa!" He barked, poking a finger between her shoulder blades.

Theresa jumped and yelped, whirling around and flinging her purse like a weapon.

Raphael easily swatted the purse away before it connected with his head, the same sour look remaining on his face the entire time.

"Jesus Christ Raph! Why do you keep doing that?" Theresa exclaimed, a small manicured palm held to her heart.

Raphael shook his head, red head band tails flapping together as they caught in the breeze. "The same reason this asshole will try to catch you off guard. Dammit Theresa, you need to be more aware. You need to learn how ta' defend yourself!"

Raphael looked angry, but Michelangelo still chanced a gibe at his expense. "Yeah, cause you know an attack is going to happen with me here Raph. Give the kid a break. Sheesh."

Raphael glared at his younger brother. "First off, that's pretty unconcerned of ya, all things considered. And second, she aint no kid Mike, she's a year older than you."

Mikey ignored the implications of his words and instead continued on. "Christ Raph, clam down. If you think she's still in danger then she probably could use some self defense training."

Raphael was nodding. "I was getting to that. I think you should train her, every other night your there."

Michelangelo couldn't help a slight jerk in surprise.

"Me? Why me? Why not you?" He asked, eye ridges raised high.

"Because you're faster, I think she should focus on speed." Raphael answered, his tone conveying the end of the conversation.

Theresa was over her initial surprise now, and was glaring at Raphael.

"You dick! What the hell crawled up your ass?" She exclaimed, her posture now matching Raphael's, with her arms crossed and feet planted wide.

Raphael rolled his eyes upwards. "You're going to be late, I don't have time for this."

Theresa huffed and snarled. "You know what, fine. See you later Mike."

And at that, she turned on a heel and strode out of the alleyway, her pace rapid.

Raphael and Michelangelo watched her go.

"I think you pissed her off Raphie."

"Good. She needs to be pissed off at me. Come on, let's go."

The brothers climbed up the fire escape railing and onto the rooftops with cat-like ease, tailing Theresa as she walked to work. They jumped from rooftop to rooftop in silence, keeping the woman in their sights while staying out of view of other pedestrians. This let Theresa go about her business with the guise of everything being normal, and with the possibility of drawing her stalker out into the open. Although, neither brother truly thought he would make a move in broad daylight.

Once they had reached the rooftop of her building, each brother settled down out of sight, eyes following Theresa as she made her way into the one story law firm's front door.

Michelangelo gave Raphael a sideways glance and spoke casually.

"So, what was all that about?" He asked, sitting crossed legged on the cool floor and leaning on an air vent.

Raphael shrugged and sat next to his brother, his eyes sliding closed.

"Just keepin some distance between us bro. Side's, she really does need to learn some self-defense."

"And you can't teach her?" Mikey inquired.

"No. Just keep her occupied Mike."

There was a momentary pause before Michelangelo said, "Oh… well then I guess you won't care that I have a date with her tonight."

Raphael's eyes flew open and he sat up stalk straight.

"_Excuse me?"_ he asked disbelievingly, his eyes immediately alighting with anger.

Mikey developed a look that conveyed somewhat of an offhand, unaware quality.

"Yeah dude. I though you'd be upset, but hey, since you _want_us to spend so much time together, I guess its no big deal."

Raphael's eyes narrowed. "No big deal?" He echoed brashly.

"Sure." Mikey said, rotating his neck inattentively.

"Okay," Raphael continued. "Let me get this straight. You asked Theresa on a date?"

"Uh-hu."

"And she _actually_ said _yes_?"

Michelangelo scrunched his face. "Well, I mean, I had to convince her. At first she was all like, _'no, I like Raph.'_ But you know me, I wore her down."

He'd taken on a false high-pitched imitation of a female's voice when mimicking Theresa, and he was completely casual as he spoke. It was driving Raphael insane.

"What did you tell her!" Raph barked, his fists clenching and pushing into the cement roofing where he was sitting.

Mikey shrugged. "Just that you must not feel the same way, and that sex with me would help her move on."

"Sex with you!" Raphael exclaimed angrily.

Michelangelo's eyes widened. "Did I say sex? I meant a date." He said, innocence leaking out of his pours.

"You jackass, I know what yer doin'." Raphael snapped, leaning back heavily on the air vent with his arms crossed.

"What am I doing?" Mikey countered, a cunning smile on his face.

"You're tryin' to make me jealous. You know what? Go ahead, date her. She aint mine, but she aint yours either."

"Oh yeah?" Michelangelo quipped.

"Yeah genius. You told her this would help make me like her, right? Well then, she aint really datin' you, is she?

Raphael stood at this, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

"You stay here," He said. "I'm going back to the apartment and gettin' some sleep."

Michelangelo looked thoughtfully at his older brother, a calculating look in his eyes.

"Just so you know," the brother in orange began. "I'm holding back right now. If you really wont wake up and see what you've got in front of you bro, I'm _totally_ not holding back anymore."

Raphael looked down at his brother.

"What's _that_ mean?" He ground out, his eyes narrowed to thin slits.

Michelangelo sighed and stood as well. He was no where near as tall as Raphael, but at least now they were on the same footing.

"It means," he began. "That right now I know she likes you. Hell, I know _you_ like her too. But eventually it's gonna get old, and I'll have to make her look at _me_ bro."

Raphael shook his head. "You're fucked up Mike, you know that?"

Mikey grinned and shook his head. "No, I'm just not stupid. Theresa's awesome dude, wake up."

Raphael worked his jaw furiously. "Stay away from her Mikey- and keep your dick ta yerself."

"Hmmm… no promises. I haven't had sex since Jade."

Raphael made a face. "Too much info Mikey."

Michelangelo laughed, "I'm just saying dude, watch out."

"Yeah, whatever." Raphael growled, reaching out and smacking his youngest brother on the back of his head.

"Ow!" Michelangelo yelped, rubbing the spot Raphael has swatted.

Raphael ignored him, walking to the edge of the roof and looking down, his shoulders taught. He was muttering, but it was nothing that Mikey could make out besides the frequent curse word.

The brother in red was suddenly gone, down the building wall and making his way back to Theresa's apartment. He was quick, but Mikey could still see the occasional flash of red bandanna tails as he moved from the cover of each rooftop, before he was out of sight.

Michelangelo grinned and sat back down, settling against the air vent once more. His brother was just way too stubborn for his own good. It was time for Michelangelo himself to intervene. Life was just too short to waste it not spending the time with another soul.

And besides, what were brothers for?

_**xxx**_

_**Author's Note:**_ The poem Mikey recites to Jade in the flashback at the beginning of the chapter is by Bayard Taylor. I partially borrowed the idea from sss979's story, Mourning Light. Her Mikey recites poetry (Shakespeare) to the lead OFC, and the idea just stuck. I suggest the story and its sequel… but the sequel isn't as happy as the first installment…

I'm sorry for the time it took to update, but I hope the long chapter will make up for it. And yes, this is still a Raphael story, just stay with me here, okay. :)

A big, **HUGE** thank you to all my reviewers, it really keeps me motivated, besides the fact that I love this story… it really is just a lot of fun to write. And also, a thank you to anyone who reads this and doesn't review. That you even take the time to stick with this and see it through really means a lot to me, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, the list Theresa makes is actually important. This is the only hint I will give in an authors note as to who her stalker is. _He's on the list._ That's it, that's all I'm saying. You have to figure out everything else for yourself. :)

Someone put me on a c2!! Wow, thanks! :)

Now, please go review… it makes me _so_ happy when you do. :)

_**xxx**_


	12. Chapter Twelve, A Bad Idea

_**Author's Note**__: _… I'm SO SORRY!! :(

I know it's been waaaaay to long! Please forgive me? I know you're all impatient for updates, but please understand that I'm a single mom with a full time job and a lot of other crisis's going on. Still, I'll try to update more often, I really love this story and it's far from over!!

_**Disclaimer: **_**IMPORTANT!! READ THIS BEFORE YOU START THE CHAPTER! YOUR EARS MIGHT BLEED IF YOU DON'T!**

Not to not give _too_ much away, but this story is rated **M** for a reason, and this chapter gets… smutty. Really, _**really**_, _**REALLY**_, in-detail smutty. I don't hold back, so if you're a young'un or easily offended by lemon/limeyness, you've been warned. I also don't own the turtles. :(

Writing this made me blush... please don't be to harsh on me. I hope I did ok with it... :P

_**xxx **_

_**Chapter 12: A Bad Idea**_

_**xxx**_ _(…flashback…)_

_Hamato Leonardo was full of rage. It was as visible in his eyes as it was the blood on Michelangelo's hands. _

"_What did you do!" The leader cried, not bothering to lower his voice for their sensei, who was asleep in his room nearby. _

_Michelangelo's blue eyes stared back at his older brother. Leo immediately took notice that they were not the same eyes his little brother had once possessed. They were dead eyes, completely void of all emotion. _

_He was blood soaked. _

_His nunchucks, sheathed at his belt, dripped pools of blood where he stood. His hand and feet, and splatters and smears all across his thighs and chest, were a deep crimson. And his face. Flicks of blood were on his face, and even scattered over his orange bandanna. _

_Like he had bathed in blood._

_But through all the carnage that covered Michelangelo, it was easy to observe that very little, if any at all, came from his own wounds. The blood was an enemy's, and the enemy was obviously dead. _

_Michelangelo looked like a warrior. He looked like a killer._

_He did not look like Michelangelo…_

"_What did you do?" Leonardo repeated, his voice not as loud but still raised and demanding, and in it there was a quavering and unmistakable panic. A fear._

_Michelangelo's eyes were glazed and unfocused, but he seemed to hear the question posed, almost as though it was called through a far away tunnel. _

"_I destroyed him," he said quietly, taking a step forward to his brothers, all who were gazing at him in wide eyed alarm. _

"_And it's not enough," he muttered as an after thought, and it was clear to Leonardo that whatever had happened, Mikey was undoubtedly in shock. He had a distinctly unhinged look to him, and when he had spoken, it had been in a clam and pondering voice. As though there were nothing wrong with coming home soaked in another persons blood._

_So much blood..._

_Next to him Leo could hear the strangled voice of Donatello, hoarse and worried._

"_Mikey… What happened?" _

_..._

_**xxx**__ (…end flashback…)_

Theresa was still fuming from her encounter with Raphael a half an hour after his proclamation that Mikey would be "training her in self-defense."

Not only was it slightly upsetting to her that the turtle in red felt he could just issue orders and expect her to obey them like it was nothing, but Raphael passing the task to his younger brother annoyed and angered her more than anything. Who did he think he was? He'd been avoiding her like she was the plague since there "almost" kiss. It was as though he thought she may attack him in lust if he didn't keep his guard up around her.

"Theresa?"

And who was he to be avoiding her? There was nothing wrong with her! Sure she rambled and had a temper, but who didn't? And what was so bad about starting a relationship? Hell, she'd settle just to have a couple more dates with him! It wasn't like she wanted to settle down and promise herself to him forever. She just _liked_ him. She _really_ liked him. What was the harm in that?

"Theresa?"

So because some gold-digger had broken his heart, every woman would be the same? Now he had to avoid her and purposely shrug her off? He was such a coward, such a jerk! Why did he have to act like this? How _**dare**_ he act like this! Why hadn't he acted like nothing had happened, instead of evading her after they had almost kissed? Acting as if nothing was going on between them would have been easier to tolerate than this aversion he'd developed. Why did he have to piss her off?

"Uh…Theresa?"

And oh, was she pissed. He wanted her to hate him. He wanted her to be angry, to _let him go_. Well, he had another thing coming! This just made her all the more determined, all the more resigned. She would make Raphael _see_ her, make him realize that he had feelings for her that couldn't be tarnished by some past botched relationship. What had he thought? She would be so distracted by her anger and annoyance with him that she would forget that feeling she got whenever he was around? Not damn well likely! She was going to do whatever it took to make Raphael realize that she was not like that other woman. He wanted to throw it all away because of a bad experience? Not in a million years was she going to let that happen!

"_Theresa_!"

Theresa jumped about a foot from her chair when she felt the hand on her shoulder. She swore loudly and looked up into the face of Ethan Shempski.

He smiled down at her and removed his hand.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He apologized, stepping away from where she was seated and standing at the front of her desk.

Theresa held a hand to her heart and smiled at him.

"Its okay, I was just off in my own little world."

Ethan chuckled. "It's alright. I was just stopping by to see how you were doing when your phone started ringing. I was trying to get your attention… but you just kept glaring at the carpet."

Theresa reached into the top drawer on her desk and pulled out her cell phone. Sure enough it said 'One Missed Call.'

"Geez," Theresa breathed out. "I'm really out of it, my volumes all the way up!"

Ethan looked troubled. "Are you okay?" He asked, shifting on each foot as he spoke to her.

Theresa gave him a thoughtful grin. "I'm okay, I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Yeah, I heard about you getting attacked… Everything alright?" Ethan asked, eyes full of anxious concern.

"Oh, _that_. Yeah, I'm fine, just a bump on the head. No big deal."

Ethan raised his brows. "No big deal? The way Shade tells it you almost died…"

Theresa rolled her eyes and thought of her over protective boss. "Yes well, Lawrence over-exaggerates things. Besides, it's all under control now."

Ethan smiled, but his face still held a hint of worry on her behalf. "Just be careful Theresa. Who else is going to pick up the slack around here if I decide to take another vacation?"

Theresa breathed out a small laugh. "Oh yeah! How was Idaho?"

"Iowa," Ethan corrected.

"Idaho, Iowa, same thing. How was it?"

"It was… boring. Good to see the family though. Surprised as hell to learn about you when I got back."

Theresa grinned at him. He was charming, although he was a bit of a dud sometimes. It was nice though, that he was so concerned about her welfare.

"Well, I'm fine," Theresa reassured once more, shrugging her shoulders in a manner that conveyed slight indifference.

"That's really good Theresa… Listen, I want-"

"Theresa!" Ethan was cut off mid-sentence by Justin Hunt, another co-worker, as he walked by.

Both Ethan and Theresa turned their gaze to the young man, Theresa having to hold back a grimace.

"Justin," she said coolly, by way of greeting.

"You feeling alright?" Justin asked, leaning against the door frame of her office, ankles crossed. He was handsome enough that it could have been illegal (compared to him, Ethan was only just average), and whatever situation he seemed to be put in he had the air of un-diminishing and everlasting bravado. Or, as some of his clients put it, 'he was a cocky sunnava bitch.' It made him a great lawyer.

"Fine actually," she replied, her tone casual. "Listen, I'm really busy you two, lots to catch up on... Could I talk to you later?" She was trying to shrug them off, it was true. But besides feeling smothered, she _really_ didn't want to talk to Justin. She was still thinking that he might have something to do with all of this, and in general she thought of him as a pain.

Ethan nodded kindly and left, but Justin lingered for a moment, looking at her with calculating eyes.

"Something you wanted?" Theresa asked, eyebrows raised, willing him to just go away.

"I'll have it eventually." Justin said, smirking.

A chill went up Theresa's spin as he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

_What had that meant? _

Her thoughts were running a mile a minute when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Before she could scream and palm was covering her mouth, and it took a moment in her panic to realize that the three fingered hand was green.

The plan was removed from her mouth, and Mikey's head appeared in front of her face.

"Hey babe!"

Theresa was breathing heavily, but she still managed a glare.

"What the hell!" She exclaimed, swatting at his face.

Michelangelo jumped back, chuckling as he did. "Sorry kid, but its not like I could knock."

"How did you get in?!"

Mike pointed to her window, located behind her desk. It was wide open.

"Jesus, I'll have a heart attack within the week…" Theresa murmured with a hand held to her chest, glad that her heart rate was slowing down.

Michelangelo acted as though he hadn't heard her. "So, couple of things babe."

"Yeah, what?" Theresa asked, glaring at him once more.

"Well first off, Raph seems real happy about this date of ours tonight."

Theresa rolled her eyes. "So in other words he took it badly and threatened to kill you."

"More or less. Second, I need to know if you're doing a lot of walking around today, cause I'm the one following you."

"Where's Raph?" Theresa asked, feeling her heart sink.

"He decided he needed to get some sleep. He went to your apartment… I'd wash all your panties, he's probably sniffing them."

"Oh ha-ha. And I'm going to the prison today to release a client. Other than that, I'll be here," Theresa answered, pursing her lips in an attempt to hold back a smile.

"Uh-huh. And last, do you like sushi?"

At that Theresa really did have to smile. "That questions kind of random. Did you just not have anything else to say?"

Mikey smirked, "I'm asking you because I'm handling dinner tonight. Soooo, do you like sushi? Yes or no?"

He bounced on his tip toes in a childish manner, and Theresa's eyes softened. "You know this isn't a real date, right? I mean, this is all part of the plan still? You're not taking it seriously?" Her tone was kind, but she'd had to ask.

Michelangelo smiled confidently, "This is for Raph... _but_,"

"No! No buts! I like you Mike, but as a friend." Theresa rushed the sentence out quickly, standing from her chair to face the orange banded turtle.

Mikey held up his hands. "Okay, okay! Sheesh, you know how to let a guy down easy!"

Theresa instantly felt guilty. "Oh Mike, I'm sorry! I mean, if I'd met just you… but, well, Raph is just…"

Michelangelo rolled his eyes playfully. "What? You think I don't know that? Theresa, its fine! Besides, while I'm confidant this plan will work, if it doesn't, your putty in my hands. You'd be saying, _'Raph who?' _"

Theresa bit her lip, "I don't know if this is such a good idea anymore…"

"Oh geez. Listen babe, this is fine, everything is fine. I'm _kidding_… mostly. You have nothing to worry about. I'm not glass, I'm not gonna get hurt."

Mikey's hands were outstretched towards her, as though he were inviting her into them, but Theresa kept herself within arms length.

"Let's… let's not call this a date. Let's call this a get together, or a party… not a date."

Michelangelo rolled his eyes and sighed, but there was still a smile on is face.

"Call it whatever you want babe. Whatever you want it to be, it'll still have the same effect on Raph."

They looked at each other a moment, Theresa's stare gauging and Mikey's soft and kind, and Theresa finally decided that even if she wanted to turn back, Michelangelo wouldn't let her.

"I'll see you at Eight. I like Salmon and Eel on my sushi, and I want to watch a western."

Michelangelo's grin grew wider, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"John Wayne?" He asked.

"Clint Eastwood."

Michelangelo was already halfway out of the window.

"Where ever you go today, I won't be far behind," he said, disappearing up and out of the window, onto the roof.

"Ninja turtles…" Theresa muttered, turning back to her desk and her paperwork.

"Thank God there are only four…"

_**xxx**_

It was hours later, the sun setting under the tall Manhattan buildings, that Theresa made her way back to her apartment. It had been a long day, full of paperwork, court, and more paperwork. And it was always tiring, on her mind and her body, having to make a trip to the jail.

Romeo, however, had been thankful to be released, even when Theresa had blasted him for well over an hour about the dangers of lying to a court to protect a younger brother. Romeo had taken it all in stride, appreciative of the fact that he was now free from the jail, but worried for his delinquent younger sibling, who Theresa told him was possibly stalking his defense attorney.

"I called Corbin and he said someone was bothering you," Romeo said, his dark eyes concerned, "but I don't think it's my brother."

"Why not?" Theresa had asked, directly coming to the conclusion that blood was thicker than water.

"Cause, even though he's a fuck up, I don't think he's all that interested in…uh… you…"

Romeo trailed off dumbly, and when Theresa had just stared at him with a look that clearly said, _what the hell are you talking about_, Romeo clarified, "Demetrius is bent."

"…He's gay?"

"Something like that."

Theresa didn't understand how someone could be _something like_ gay, but she'd shrugged her shoulders and moved past it, not crossing him off her list even with this new information.

"You need to stay out of trouble Rome. And if your brother calls, tell him you know a good defense attorney. He's young, we all make mistakes."

Romeo smiled down at her, attractive and much taller than herself, standing at a good 6'3 at the very least.

"Too nice," he said. "You can be too nice sometimes Resa. I'll tell him, and in the mean time, you need to get a gun. Protect your ass, shoot that dude the next time he comes around."

Theresa had laughed and shook her head, "I don't believe in guns."

Romeo had rolled his eyes and cursed, and from where they were on the court house stairs, an older woman glared and muttered about foul mouthed delinquents (even though Rome was well on his way to mid-thirties).

"A dog then. A big one," Romeo had suggested, ignoring the gray haired woman, and Theresa had thought, _'I like dogs.'_

"I'll think about it. But until then, you make sure you stay out of trouble. I'm serious, your wife is a mess without you. So that means no Corbin, that man will be the death of you."

Rome had laughed and joked that he would tell Corbin she had said that, and Theresa had shrugged and said that it wasn't anything he didn't already know. Which in fact was absolutely true, Corbin knew he was trouble, and he liked it that way.

That had been hours ago, and Theresa was finally back at her apartment, staring at the empty living room in confusion.

No Michelangelo. No Raphael.

"…Hello?"

No answer.

'_Mikey's out getting sushi, and Raph's on the roof,'_ she told herself, reassured with the fact that the door had been locked, and a quick walk through the apartment revealed a closed and bolted bedroom window, and the rest of the living space looking exactly as she had left it that morning.

Theresa thought about Mikey and her "date." She should look casual for this, like it wasn't too important. Jeans or sweats, and maybe an older tee shirt. But a shower was definitely necessary, and that thought was so very appealing that she was out of her cloths and under a stream of scorching hot water in less than a minute.

_**xxx**_

Raphael raised an eyebrow at his orange clad younger brother.

"Ok, you want _me_ to do _you_ a favor… did you hit your head today? This morning you were tellin' me that you were gonna have sex with her."

Raphael had watched from the roof as Theresa had entered her apartment, and Mikey was now standing next to him, asking if he could keep an eye on her while he went and got them dinner…

For their date.

_Like hell…_

Michelangelo did a very over exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Dude, I'm not havin' sex with her. What part didn't you get about her not liking me? Not like that anyway. She likes _you_… just think of this as, like, a gathering for two people to get to know each other better."

Raphael's eyes narrowed. "That's called a date Mikey."

Again Michelangelo rolled his eyes and huffed, getting impatient. "Listen bro, I like her, but I'm not going to be the one who does anything with her, _I'm _not the one you need to worry about. But if you don't make your move, if you don't stop screwing around and get your head out of your ass, some other guy is going to come along and take her."

Raphael crossed his arms, glowering and trying to convince himself that was exactly what he wanted. But the thought of Theresa with anyone but him made Raph feel slightly sick, and he shoved the consideration away entirely.

"Go get your stupid sushi Mike," he said in defeat.

Mikey jumped around, and hooted for a while about wearing Raph down, but he was gone in an instant when Raphael had glared and opened his mouth to tell him to forget it.

When he was alone, Theresa wandered into his mind again, and he shifted uncomfortably. He liked her, he wasn't so stubborn that he couldn't admit it. But even throughout the pull of attraction and lure that flared up every time he thought of her, he realized that he didn't want to get hurt. Going through all of that again, especially if it ended up like the fiasco with Mia, was just too painful to bear for a second time. She was successful and smart and beautiful, and he was a turtle. He had no income, he lived in a sewer, and he could never give her the family that he was sure she wanted. Maybe his brother was right when he told him he was thick headed, but it was better than getting his heart broken, and it was certainly better than doing something stupid, like falling in love.

Stealthily and with resolve, Raphael made his way down to Theresa's second story fire escape, extracting his key for her locked window and letting himself in. He pocketed the key in his leather belt and stood in her bedroom, hands on hips, trying to decide what in the world that_ sound_ was.

After a moment he realized it was Theresa singing, belting out Carly Simons "Vain" in tones that were reminiscent to a dying cat. Raphael smiled, chuckling when her voice cracked, and slid the bolt on her window home, making sure it was tightly locked.

"_You walked into the party, like you were walkin' onto a yacht. Your hat strategically dipped below one eye, your scarf it was apricot."_

Raphael laughed and shook his head again. She had a terrible voice. He listened to her for awhile, just standing in the middle of her bedroom while she jumped verses and made up words when she couldn't remember the right ones. Then she started a new song, and Raphael's shoulders shook at not only the oddness of her song choice, but also that she was completely off key.

"_Breaking my back just to know your name, Seventeen tracks and I've had it with this game. I'm breaking my back just to know your name, But heaven ain't close in a place like this"  
_

The song was vaguely familiar to Raphael, but he couldn't put his finger on where he'd heard it. Something he was sure that Michelangelo listened to…

Shrugging, he walked down the hall, smiling as her voice lifted cracked again, and stopped at the bathroom door, leaning against its jam and knocking on it.

Immediately the singing came to a halt, and he could hear the showers water turn off.

"…Please tell me that's someone here to kill me…" she called out, and Raphael grinned and stared at the closed door.

"No such luck. I wanted to make sure that cat you're killin' is dead."

He heard Theresa groan and begin moving around in the bathroom, muttering something that sounded a lot like _stupid turtles_.

Raphael couldn't stop grinning, but it suddenly wasn't funny when the bathroom door swung open and Theresa stood there, wrapped in a long pink robe and flushed from the shower and embarrassment. His smile faded as he looked at her, and so did his reasons for being so resistant. He didn't even remember why it wasn't a good idea to start anything with her. Something about money? Or kids? He couldn't recall. All he knew for certain was that at that moment was she was funny and beautiful and practically naked, and he wanted her right then more than anything else he had ever wanted in his entire life.

'_To hell with it,'_ he thought, and he could swear he heard his heart pounding through his chest.

"You can't tell _anybody_," she began to say, referring to her singing, and Raphael felt his hands involuntarily reach out and grip her arms, pulling her towards him.

She collided hard against his plastron, and her voice came to abrupt halt mid sentence as he looked down at her, his eyes dark and roving over her face.

'_Oh God,'_ she thought, frozen entirely against him, unable to do anything but stare up at the red banded turtle and wait for whatever was coming next.

Raphael brought his hand up to entangle in her wet hair, and his other palm slid down and gripped at her hip, his fingers digging into her skin. _'God I want you,'_ he thought to himself, but the words were caught in his throat. All he could do was lower his head and watch her eyes flutter closed.

The kiss was slow and wonderful, making time stop entirely for Theresa. His mouth was soft against hers, and the dissimilarities in their lips were quickly compensated. Theresa's mind went blank, and the whole world could have ended then without her knowing any different. Then Raphael applied pressure to the back of her head, deepening the kiss, and suddenly everything went from slow passion to heated frenzy. Her hands, which had been frozen at her sides, were quickly finding places on his body that she had itched to touch. One snaked up around his neck, gripping him there, and the other ran up his smooth chest plates, her fingers digging into the grooves.

Their lips parted for a moment, each of them catching their breath, and Raphael held her tightly and stepped forward, maneuvering her back into the steam filled bathroom and shutting the door with his foot so that it slammed loudly. Then he was kissing her again with such force that Theresa felt herself go dizzy with lust and lack of air.

"I want you," she panted against his lips, and Raphael groaned and kissed her hard, bruising her lips and pushing her to his right, pinning her against the wall. It was like an explosion had gone off in her body, and all coherent thought ceased to be, the only thing existing being the anticipation and crazed fervor that Raphael was creating inside of her. Her leg hooked around his calf and she arched against him, wanting him closer even though she was pressed flush against him. She whimpered when his hand left her hair to slide over her shoulders and stop under her breast, his fingers barely grazing it, and a thrill went up her spine and her skin tingle.

'_This is a bad idea,' _Raph thought to himself briefly, hooking his fingers in the belts knot at her waist. But then she bit down on his lip and all thoughts left his mind in a hurry. The belt was untied within a second, and Theresa tried to shrug it off, crazy with the need to feel her bare skin pressed to his. But Raphael caught her wrists in his hands and moved them to his chest, ignoring her groan of protest. Her lips then moved from his own, down to his neck, and when they grazed over his adams apple she felt him go ridged and knew she had done something right.

As soon as Theresa nipped at the skin on his neck, Raphael growled and clenched his jaw, pressing harder against her and removing his hands from her wrists, moving away from her just enough so that he could slide the robe off her shoulders and let it pool at their feet. The breeze against Theresa's skin was brief in the time it took to remove her robe, and it was immediately replaced with the feel of Raphael's hard body against hers.

Raphael groaned loudly, pulling back after a quick brush of their lips to look at her, and Theresa was filled with frustration at having his body leave her own once more. But she felt a chill go up her spine as she watched him looking at her, his eyes dark and hooded.

"God," he said, his voice strangled, and Theresa felt heat rise up from her toes and spread throughout the rest of her body, making her tingle with want.

It was the same way for Raphael, looking at her and feeling his head spin. Every imagining about her, every fantasy he'd had thus far, was paled in comparison to the real thing. She was perfect, to him at least. Swelled lips from his insistent kisses, smooth skin that still held traces of water from her shower, and a body that any man could have appreciated. And with her standing there, looking at him with desire and longing, there was no way he could turn back, and he felt a wave of possessiveness wash over him.

He was to her again, trapping her hard between him and the wall, and his lips found hers once more. His hands were everywhere, gripping and squeezing, and when his right leg came up and went in between her own, the top of his thigh pressing against her center firmly, Theresa tilted her head back and cried out.

"Bedroom," she cried breathlessly, her nails digging into his shoulders as she grinded her hips, "_Please_."

The realization that she was begging him made Raphael's breath catch, and his hands reached around her so they could grip her rear end, lifting her so that her feet were off the ground and her legs were trying in vain to wrap around his shell.

"We can't," he murmured, taking her ear between his teeth. "Cameras are everywhere but here."

Theresa groaned. "Then here. Now. _Please._"

Her nails were running hard over his shoulders and down his arms, and when she kissed him, her tongue slipping into his mouth and finding his own, Raphael felt himself sway and shudder.

"Mike… will be here… soon…" he said between kisses and breaths, and he lifted her higher in his arms and turned around, carrying her to the sink and setting her on the edge of it.

Immediately Theresa opened her legs, hooking her ankles around the back of his knees and pulling him between her, grinding against him in a hopeless effort to relieve the need that was building inside her, pooling in between her legs.

"I want you now," she breathed, tugging on his bandanna and pulling it off, throwing it over his shoulder to land on the floor, on top of her pink robe. Raphael groaned and leaned forward, biting her shoulder and trying desperately to get his racing heart under control. His hands rested firmly on her knees, and in her mad desire Theresa grabbed one and slid it up her thigh, pressing it where she needed relief the most.

"Please touch me," she whimpered, and called out his name when she felt him slid a finger inside of her.

Then outside of the bathroom someone called out, "Anybody home?"

They froze.

Mikey.

…

Theresa was panting, and she let out a low frustrated groan. Raphael reached up quickly and covered her mouth, a finger still deep inside of her.

"Tell him you're getting' in the shower, and you'll be out in a minute," he rasped softly in her ear, nipping at the lobe before he removed his palm from over her mouth.

Theresa called out the message, her voice quavering only slightly, and she was met with silence for a moment before she heard Michelangelo say, "No problem babe. Need any help?"

Theresa thought to herself that this was _not_ the time for jokes, and then all thought was gone as Raphael moved his finger inside of her, and Theresa squirmed and bit her lip.

"Yeah, need any help?" He questioned teasingly into her neck, and Theresa gritted her teeth and called out, "No! I'll be out in a minute!"

Raphael chuckled softly and left her, empty and quaking with want, to turn on the shower, making sure the water was freezing.

"You need a cold shower," he said thickly, working hard to keep the urge to grab her and send her into orgasmic oblivion there on the sink at bay. It didn't help when she was looking at him like that.

"Please don't do this to me," she panted, sliding off the sink and going to him, her body pressing tightly onto his as she kissed him, putting all the lust and yearning into that she could.

Raphael went dizzy for a moment, and he lost track of what he was trying to say to her.

"…I promise I'll come see you tonight," he murmured against her lips, and Theresa shook her head and said, "Not good enough, I want you now."

Raphael laughed through his nose and slid his hands down her back to swat playfully at her back side.

"Should have thought of that before you told Mikey you'd go on a date with him. Which reminds me," at this point he maneuvered a hand between them and pressed his palm on her center, causing her to suck in breath sharply between her teeth.

"No more dates with my brother," he finished, pulling away from her and stepping back.

Theresa wanted to scream at the loss she felt when he stepped out of her arms.

"I'm afraid to let you go," she said, biting her lip, "you'll start thinking about how this is a bad idea and you won't come here tonight."

Raphael's grin was devious. "Trust me, even though this _is_ a bad idea, I plan on both of us coming here tonight… more than once."

"Jesus," she muttered, and she was torn between jumping on him or jumping in the cold shower. The shower would have to do, that way the night could go by faster. But God was it hard to just stop after all that, especially since she was so worked up.

Once she slipped into the tub, Theresa assumed he would leave her after she had disappeared behind the curtain. But she was pleased so see him leaning against the door when she poked her head out to check, his eyes still dark with hunger. She let the cold water run over her body, willing herself to calm down and just breathe. It only took five minutes before she was turning off the water and stepping out of the shower, annoyed by the fact that cold showers were apparently a myth, especially when the turtle who had gotten her in this state was watching her as she dried off in front of him.

She wanted him all over again when she met his eyes, but instead she bent down and grabbed her robe, slipping it on and handing Raphael his bandanna. The turtle put it on and turned from her, opening the door just a crack and listening. He could hear Michelangelo in the kitchen, humming and moving around, and he waved for Theresa to follow him down the hall and into her bedroom.

"I'll be out in a minute," she called to Michelangelo, before she shut and locked her door firmly.

"You listen to me buster," she hissed, turning on Raph and poking him in the chest. "I'll be here waiting for you tonight, and I won't have on underwear, so you better show up."

Raphael gave a half grin and glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room.

"You know they have microphones on them, don't you?"

Theresa's eye twitched. "And tell Donny to shut those damn things off!"

Raphael laughed softly and turned from her, unlocking her window and stepping out onto her fire escape.

"See you tonight." He said, smiling deviously and disappearing up the ladder and out of sight.

And even though Theresa knew he meant what he said, she couldn't help but feel that if he was alone long enough to think about what they had just done, there was no way he'd be coming back.

"I should have nailed him to the bed," she murmured, knowing for certain that this was the beginning of the end.

And two floors above her, standing in frozen shock, Raphael was just realizing what he'd done.

"_Damn…" _

_**xxx**_

_**Authors Note: **_I know I said in the last chapter that this would be "the date", but I just never got there with the whole smutty groping scene taking the spotlight. I actually have started some of it started, but I thought that it would probably take away from this chapter, and I didn't wasn't to loose that _umph_, you know? So I took it out and it'll be the very beginning of the next chapter, where we'll get through the date, some important story plots, and we'll see whether Raph comes back or not. :)

I want to thank all of you who are reviewing or even just reading this story. I hope you're all enjoying it. I like to think that I've grown as a writer during the course of this (some of the earlier chapters make me cringe), and I hope it shows. I just found out that I had the anonymous reviewing blocked, so it's lifted if you don't have an account and would like to leave a review. And please, no flames for the smut, I warned you!! I hope you all liked it though. I always blush through these things… :P

I think I'm going to go ahead and dedicate this whole story to Lola. Lady, if you hadn't reviewed and been there though all of this annoying writers block, I don't know what I would have done. This story exists partially because of you. I really need to get on the ball with your gift. I've decided I don't like the direction I originally had it going, so I'm nixing it and starting over. I suck, I know, but it will be better now, I think. :)

The songs are Carly Simon's Vain, and The Killers Somebody Told Me. I don't own them. :(

Thanks again, and please review!


	13. Chapter Thirteen, Let it Linger

_**Chapter Thirteen: Let it Linger**_

_**xxx**_

_One, two…three cameras… _

_Two were on each end of the alley, and one was there on her fire escape. Were they in her apartment as well? Is this why she'd seemed so… at ease? As if she hadn't a care in the world? As if this were just any other day, filled with work and other mundane tasks? Because she felt safe with some cameras…?_

_It was those men, he decided, keeping his head down as he swept the sidewalk. Those men were making her feel safe, when he wanted her frightened. They were making her feel protected when he wanted her exposed. What right did she have not to fear him? Hadn't she seen the picture he'd left on her window? Hadn't she realized just how long he'd been watching her? How many chances he'd had to __kill__ her? _

_He moved closer, trying to get a better look at her window without exposing his face. The disguise he'd thought of, posing as a maintenance person as to not look too suspicious, had been a good idea. No one questioned his light blue jeans or his upturned navy jacket. His ball cap was wide brimmed and pulled low, and it hid his face sufficiently, and the large broom he held served as good excuse as any to be in this area without causing question. And it was a good thing he'd taken the time to don it, because the cameras were __**such**__ a surprise. These men, the ones who had saved her, he hadn't thought they would go through this much trouble to protect her, a woman who was essentially a stranger. _

_As he moved closer to her apartment, he glanced up covertly and scowled, his eyes flashing with annoyance and hatred. _

_New Window to her bedroom._

_They had replaced her window. _

_Did that mean she had never even realized that he'd replaced it on his own? His window without locks, meant to send her a message that he was coming for her, that her time was limited… Had she not seen the picture or the note? Did she truly not fear him? _

_Raphael and Michelangelo, such odd names, such odd behavior towards a total stranger. They were giving her courage, and strength. Giving her hope. _

_False hope, he decided. It wasn't real, wasn't anything he needed to worry about. They were not with her all of the time, they couldn't be. It was humanly impossible to be with someone on every minute of every hour of every day. So this would have to be planned exactly, down to the last detail, in an almost obsessive compulsive manner. He could get into her head other ways. He could make her fear him again without ever showing his face. And he could wait. He had an infinite amount of patience; it was one of his strong suits. He could wait until she was alone, and then he could strike. _

_And the fear would be there again, like it had never been gone in the first place. Until then, there were plenty of other ways to get her attention… _

_Other ways to make her suffer…_

_**xxx**_

The curtains billowed, and Theresa shut and locked the window firmly, still shaking from her rendezvous with Raphael.

He wasn't going to come back…

There was no way, not when she stopped and thought about his personality, that she could believe he would turn up later tonight, as he'd promised. There was no way it was this easy, no way after all that resistance he would just give in now…

Theresa cursed and snarled, full of sexual frustration, and began dressing, shutting herself in her closet so that the camera wouldn't catch a glimpse of her. She settled for simple, slipping on a faded pair of jeans and a baggy gray tee shirt that had the Green Bay Packers logo on it. Her wet hair went up into a messy bun, and make up was out of the question.

She padded barefoot out into her kitchen, smiling in spite of herself when she saw Mikey at her table, whistling the theme from Kill Bill and cracking open a beer. He looked so relaxed and… _happy._ It wasn't something she had seen from him often since she had met him.

"Babe," he said by way of greeting, and he nodded to her counter where Theresa saw a bento of salmon, eel and crab sushi, and a bottle of warm sake.

"You spoil me," she replied, and pulled out two brandy glasses and filled them each halfway full of sake. She handed one to Mikey, who drained his beer and took it from her. Theresa sat across from the turtle with a raised brow.

"Planning on tasting any of that?" she questioned, referring to the now empty bottle of Corona.

Michelangelo made a face at her, "This beer is for chicks. You drink girl beer," he said, sipping the sake and making a face. "And I hate sake," he added.

Theresa fought down a smile. "What do you mean _girl beer_? Raph had this when he came over, and he never complained."

Mikey rolled his eyes, "He was thinking it was girl beer, I bet you ten bucks."

"Whatever. Did you get the movie?"

Michelangelo grinned and reached a long arm over to the chair next to him and brandished a DVD case. "I have graced you with Unforgiven, my lady."

Theresa was happy for a moment, thinking of Clint Eastwood in all his rough cowboy glory, and then she remembered how amazingly depressing that movie was, and frowned. Depressing didn't sound like what she needed at the moment. In fact, depressing was the last thing she wanted, seeing as how she was over one hundred percent sure that Raphael wasn't coming back… But maybe she was wrong? Maybe he would surprise her?

"Uh… babe? You okay?"

Theresa jerked her head up to look at Mikey. His head was cocked to the side, and he looked slightly concerned.

"I lost you for a second… You totally spaced out…" he said softly, and his serious eyes were searching her face in a way that made it seem that if he studied it long enough he could read her thoughts.

Theresa frowned. "Huh? Oh… yeah. How about something else? Something… happy? Or funny?"

Michelangelo nodded and didn't question her for reasons, sensing that she didn't want to explain. "Anything you want babe, I never really liked Unforgiven anyway. It's fuckin' depressing. Wanna watch Kung Foo Hustle? Its funny, has lots of kick ass action, and there's, like, a little bit of romance thrown in it. I saw it in your DVD collection."

Theresa smiled at his kindness. "One of my favorites. Let's eat while we watch…"

They piled their plates with sushi and soy sauce, and Theresa refilled her glass with sake while Mikey snagged another beer. They sat close together, and when the sushi was finished Mikey hit pause to pop some popcorn, and they shared it between them.

Halfway through the movie Theresa was feeling better. She had a nice buzz going, she was with a good friend, and she was laughing as the Ax Gang tried to terrorize the residents of Pig Sty Alley. Who needed Raphael? Who needed his serious voice or his intense eyes or his talented hands?

… So maybe she wasn't okay, but she was feeling better. She couldn't, however, help but wonder what he was thinking right at that moment, wherever he was.

_**xxx **_

Raphael sighed and rested his head on his knees. An hour or so had gone by, and he was sitting on the roof of the pawn shop, across from Theresa's apartment, wondering what the _hell_ was wrong with him. Why couldn't he keep himself in check when he was around her? Why, every time he saw her, did he feel that annoying pull of lust and possessiveness? If he went back there tonight, would it quail his need for her? If he had her once, would he be satisfied? Would she then be out of his system?

Or would he want her more?

Was it better then, to not show up at all? He wanted her, God did he want her. But could it stop at that? Wasn't there a chance of his feeling something more? Women had always been a great hobby, a great pastime. But this woman… she was more than a fling or a one night stand. And knowing that, feeling the truth of it deep in his heart… if he went back tonight, it would only make it worse when it all ended. Because it always ended. What kind of future could they have together? What kind of life could they make with one another?

He remembered now, snippets of Theresa and Michelangelo's conversation from a week ago, when they had been taking her to their lair for added protection…

She had asked the young turtle, _"Isn't their something that you like doing? Something you know you could do for the rest_ _of your life?"_

_Michelangelo shrugged noncommittally. "I dunno… skateboarding?" _

_Theresa laughed. "Go figure you're the skater type. That's not what I meant though. Isn't their something… Oh I don't know, something like a job. You know, a skill that you could do for the rest of your life?" _

"_Skateboarding's a skill." Michelangelo complained._

_Theresa shook her head, still smiling. "I'm not saying it isn't. But you know what I mean." _

_Michelangelo looked down at her. "I'm ninja." _

_Suddenly they had stopped walking, and Raphael had to catch himself from running into them._

"_So… do you want to do that for the rest of your life?" Theresa asked looking up at him seriously now._

_Michelangelo looked thoughtful, his eye ridges knitted. "I guess… not." _

Raphael sighed at the memory. It had seemed like such a revelation then, such a ludicrous thing for Michelangelo to say. But now he thought that maybe he understood. Was this the way Mikey had felt with Jade? The need to support her? The ambition to be able to take care of her? Theresa didn't really need taken care of, she did quite well on her own… but something in him wanted to do more, wanted to be able to provide her with more. What was his skill? He was ninja, was there a way to put his lifelong "profession" into play, some way to make money off of it? A way to support himself, out of the sewer?

He felt so fucking inadequate…

His phone rang, a long piercing melody that broke the silence that surrounded him, and he scowled when he saw it was Donatello.

"Yeah?" he snapped, exhaling a long breath into the mouth piece.

"…So… I bet you're pretty excited."

Donatello's voice sounded amused, and Raphael's eyes narrowed. "Bout' what?"

"…About Theresa… not having on any underwear…"

He sounded so smug that Raphael snarled and cursed. He'd forgotten about that. Really, he'd been hoping Donny hadn't been paying attention to the monitors. It wasn't like they watched them every second of every day…

"Something you wanted?" He hissed, not in the mood for light banter.

Donny chuckled lightly. "Yeah. There was someone in the alley earlier. You get a look at him?"

Raphael thought about it.

"… The maintenance guy? No. I looked down and saw him, but I didn't think he was real important, seeing as there's a psycho on the loose," his voice dripped with sarcasm.

Donny sighed into the phone. "That's the thing. He was really careful about not looking at the cameras. I didn't catch his face once. And he didn't have a logo on his jacket or anything… it seemed at little… fishy."

Raphael's insides did a tumble. Had he really been so stupid? Had he really just shrugged off the stalker as an everyday blue collar citizen?

"Damn…. Damn, damn, damn… _fuck._ What the hell Don, why didn't you call me sooner?! I coulda' followed the guy."

"Hey, I didn't think anything of it either. But I got to thinking about it and I watched the tapes again and… yeah. We don't know it was him, I was just wondering if you got a good look or not."

Raphael paused. Just a maintenance guy… probably nothing more…

"Alright… anything else you wanted?"

"No that was all. I was just… just…"

Donatello trailed off, and there was quiet on the other end of the phone, a long abnormal pause, almost as if the device had gone dead.

"…Donny?"

There was another bead of silence, and Raph was getting that sinking feeling in his gut, the one he got whenever anything went wrong…

Finally Donatello's voice broke across the dead silence, hurried and brisk and a bit unsure. "Raph… someone's at Theresa's front door."

Raphael stood swiftly, looking across the alley form his position on the pawn shops roof to Theresa's second story window.

"Who?" he said, and his voice was commanding and harsh, full of deadly malice and authority.

"Two men… They're knocking…"

Raphael snarled a little, his heart racing.

"I got it handled," he said, snapping the phone shut with force and taking a hasty running leap across the roof and onto Theresa's fire escape.

And as he unlocked the window quietly, he heard voices in her living room, and had murder in his heart.

_**xxx**_

Michelangelo grinned down at Theresa as the movie credits began to scroll down.

"I love that movie," he said, his arm snaking around Theresa's shoulders to pull her close against him, careful not to make her spill any of the drink that was in her hand.

Theresa looked up at the bright eyed turtle and made a face.

"Even thought you _know_ none of those moves are possible?" She asked, her lips twitching.

"Babe, anything is possible. You are looking at a Ninja master."

Theresa craned her head more to get a better look at him. "Really?" she asked.

Michelangelo shrugged, "Well… yeah. I mean, no, those moves aren't really possible. But, yeah, I'm a master. Not as good as Splinter but, I mean, there's _always_ room for improvement. Nunchucks and Bushido and stealth and hand to hand and… why are you looking at me like that?"

Theresa grinned and rested her head on his shoulder, curling her feet close to her body and letting her eyes slide closed. After three half-glasses of sake, the room spun in a lazy circle, and she felt utterly relaxed.

"Ninja turtles… that's so funny," she murmured, her breathing becoming shallow.

Michelangelo looked down, gripping her shoulder and pulling her close, taking her almost empty glass of potent alcohol and sitting it on the end table next to him.

"Everything's funny when your drunk, but that's one that probably pretty amusing even when your sober," his humor sounded a bit dark and cynical, even though his tone was light.

Theresa poked him on his side. "Not drunk," she murmured. "And not funny ha-ha. Just… funny. You guys are all pretty amazing. Besides being an Evolved species of turtles, you all know Ninjitsu. And you're all good people. Your like, a great example of how all men should behave. You're amazing."

Michelangelo looked down at her honey colored hair and smiled, shaking his head just slightly.

"Your amazing Theresa," he said softly, pulling her even closer to him. When had anyone ever said a thing like that to him? When had someone said he was an amazing person, an example of how all _men_ should behave? When had anyone said it like she had, so full of truth and simple honesty? When was the last time a human had talked to him with such openness and understanding, completely uncaring of the fact that he was not at all like all the other _people_ in the world? She really was amazing, and his brother really needed to get it together…

There was a knocking at the door then, sharp and loud, and Theresa jerked her head up in surprise, almost hitting the top of her skull into Mikey's jaw if his reflexes hadn't been fast enough to pull away.

"What the…?" She murmured, letting her feet slid off the couch. She stood slowly, getting her balance as the room righted itself, and she held out her hands to balance herself on her first unsteady step. Michelangelo was next to her then, gripping her elbow and pulling her to him.

"What are you doing? Don't answer it!"

Theresa made a face at him. "I have a peep hole… I'll look and see who it is before I answer."

Mikey looked down at her, thinking it over, before he nodded and released her, letting her make her way to the front door. He stood behind her as she looked through the hole, ready to pull her back if anything should happen.

She stepped back and groaned, and Michelangelo pulled her away from the door promptly, dragging her a few good paces from it.

"Who is it?" He asked, whispering so his voice wouldn't carry, trying to keep his body between her and the knocking.

"Oh for God sakes! Will you cut it out? Do you really think a stalker would _knock?_ Just… go hide, I'll get rid of them."

She shrugged away form Mikey, who resisted the urge to grab her and pull her back, his whole body rejecting the idea of hiding and leaving Theresa vulnerable. The knocking became louder and more forceful.

The blonde looked back at him and scowled. "Well… go!" She said, sliding the chain out of its place and resting her hand on the dead bolt.

"…Who is it?" Mikey asked uncertainly, taking a step backwards into her kitchen, his hands on his nunchucks.

"My idiot brother and Corbin… a friend. Now go. Hide."

He did, slipping into the kitchens large pantry closet and leaving the door cracked so he could hear the conversation, annoyed with the way events were taking place. What had happened to his date?

Theresa unlocked the dead bold and let the door swing open, revealing Corbin, who smiled at her toothily, and her brother, who shrunk back at her glare.

"Well… come in," she snapped, standing back to let them walk in and shutting the door firmly behind them once they had past her.

Corbin looked as he always did. Tall and confident, his white blonde hair hidden under a Yankees baseball cap, and his overly large tee shirt and sagging jeans un-diminishing his good looks. Her brother Tommy, however, had a look that made her scowl deepen. He was dressed similarly to Corbin, but he worn no hat, and his short brown hair was slightly disheveled. His white shirt was stained with flicks of what looked undoubtedly to be blood. His eye was black and half closed, and his lip was spilt, and he was holding his wrist as though he were in pain. He was a mess, although, if his face weren't so swollen he'd have also been good looking.

As brother and sister, they looked little alike. Contradictory hair color, facial features dissimilar, but even from where Michelangelo hid and peered at them, he could tell that they were family. There eyes even looked to be the same color, from what he could tell of the un-blackened one on Tommy's face.

"Why are you here Tommy?" Theresa asked coldly, pointedly ignoring her brother's injuries.

Tommy swallowed loudly. "Listen sis, you gotta help me. Benito… he made a deal with my gang and… Sis, they're gonna kill me."

Theresa scoffed. "_Sis,_" she muttered in mocking disgust, and then she continued in heated anger, "So you came _here_?! Damnit Tommy, what the hell were you thinking? You pick a fight with a guy known to kill people for looking at him wrong, and then you _come here_ for help?! Benito Escobar is an _ex-cop_. Do you understand what that means? Do you realize the things he had to do to be accepted into his gang? That man is a monster and you two just showed up at my front door."

Her voice had risen, and she turned on Corbin with fire in her eyes.

"And you!" she said, poking him in the chest. "What the hell is wrong with you?! I _told_ you that I wanted nothing else to do with him! And what do you do? You bring him here! Corbin I swear to God if you don't get him out of this apartment right now I'm calling the cops!"

Corbin scowled and grabbed her wrist, holding it gently but firmly away from his chest where she had been poking him.

"Listen," he said bending slightly to look her in the eyes. "He's your brother. I know you hate him. I know you don't claim him. But he's still your brother, and I dunno what else ta do with the fucking idiot," Tommy flinched at his friends harsh words, but neither did Corbin nor Theresa notice or care. Corbin continued, "He pissed off Benito, joined the South Side for protection, and they're turning their back on 'em for Benito to have. He's gonna _kill_ him Ressa. You got one brother, you really wanna see him in a casket?"

Theresa wrenched her hands from Corbin and swung a glare at her brother, who was looking pale.

"What do you think they'll do to me if they find out you're here Tommy?"

Tommy sniffed and shuddered, his breath slightly wheezing as he gripped his wrist and swayed. "Corbin said you were safe… Manny and his brother said they have rights to you… Everyone knows who your friends with Sis, they aint gonna touch you… and Corbin said you had _other_ protection right now…"

Theresa's eyes narrowed. Not only was it disturbing to know that a gang had claimed her as property to keep her safe (Manny being the culprit), but now Corbin had also blabbed about seeing Raphael.

"Just because I have some friends who are helping me out, doesn't mean that they extend the courtesy to you Tommy. Now get out. Find a hotel to stay in, go to Mexico or Canada for all I care. Just keep your troubles off my doorstep. And don't you dare go to Mom and Dad's either!"

Tommy looked pleadingly at her, helpless and frightened, before his knees shook and buckled, and he passed out in the middle of her living room with a sickening thud.

"Damnit," she muttered, crossing her arms and looking annoyed, the buzz she had earlier from the sake gone now, and all that was left in its place being a heavy hammering in her skull.

"Jesus Theresa, why'd you have to be like that?"

Theresa shot a look at Corbin. "_Me_?! What about you? Bringing him here, telling him about Raphael after I _told_ you to keep your mouth shut! What the hell happened to him?"

Corbin sighed walked to Theresa's collapsed brother. He leaned down and, ignoring her protests for him to keep him on the ground where he belonged, scooped up Tommy with a soft grunt and laid him on Theresa's couch.

"The South Siders, his worthless fucking coward gang, turned on him. He got their brand, took their name, and then when they started getting heat from Benito's gang, they turned him out. Benito's crew is a lot stronger than the South Siders… they didn't want all that trouble. They beat the shit out of Tom and then left him on the street for Benito to find… He called me from a payphone, I came and got em… and here we are."

"Here you are…" Theresa repeated softly, shaking her head and sighing.

Corbin shifted uneasily. "… Is uh… is that thing here? Raph?"

Before Theresa could open her mouth to answer a voice sounded from behind her.

"Turtle, asshole. I'm a turtle."

Theresa whirled to look at Raphael, leaned against her hallway wall, red bandana bright against his dark skin, a sai twirling between his fingers.

Corbin jumped a little, but otherwise didn't seem so startled.

Then her pantry door swung open and Michelangelo stepped out, and Corbin cussed and jumped and exclaimed, "Damnit there's two!"

Michelangelo came to stand next to Theresa, ignoring Corbin- who was still cursing, and peered at the couch in interest.

"I didn't know you had a brother," he said simply, taking her elbow and pulling her to him, maneuvering himself between her and Corbin in a way that was a completely obvious gesture of protection, even though he tried to make it seen natural.

"Want me ta take out the trash?" Raphael asked, nodding at Tommy to indicate him, his bicep flexing in tension and anger.

Theresa scowled at the turtles. "Damnit, everyone stop trying to protect me for two seconds. No, don't take out the trash. Just… just give me a minute to think."

"Hey," Michelangelo said, turning to her and giving her a boisterous smile, "You were gonna throw him out anyway, right?"

At that Corbin found his voice through his string of profanities. "Hell no she wasn't. This is her brother. What? You think she's that heartless?"

Corbin tugged at his pants and eyed Raphael, with his sai still twirling, and then Michelangelo, who was glaring at him.

Theresa grimaced, "No I wouldn't kick him out. I was just trying to… scare him… or something," She sighed heavily. "What an idiot. Come on Corbin, let's clean him up and put him in the spare."

They did, the turtles helping when asked, and soon the futon in Theresa's spare room was laid out, and Tommy was passed out on it. His wrist was wrapped (it was only sprained), his cuts cleaned, and Theresa had yanked off his heavy boots and thrown a thick blanket over him. She gave one pitying backwards glance as she stepped out of her spare room and into the hall, closing the door behind her. When she entered her small living room she saw that both Raphael and Michelangelo had taken defensive stances on opposite sides of the room, clearly keeping Corbin, who was lounging cat-like out on her sofa, from making a quick escape.

Not that he was trying to leave. The bleach blonde had picked up her remote and was surfing her channels, ignoring the two massive turtles that were glaring at him, and settling on a European soccer game.

"What are you doing?" Theresa asked him with a sigh, pushing at his feet until he moved them enough for her to have a place on the cushion at the end of the couch.

"I'm watching West Ham dominate this other team… I dunno who the other team is though… Rochester?" He narrowed his eyes, trying to determine just who the other soccer team was.

"Funny. I mean what are you doing with Tommy? Why did you bring him here? There's nothing I can do if he's really in that much trouble."

Corbin grimaced and sat up, muting the television and turning to look at her seriously.

"I don't know Ressa. Really, I don't know how your brother does it. It's like he's a magnet for trouble or somethin'. But… he's still my friend, and he's still your brother, and I can't leave him to die. Can't you… I dunno, put him in witness protection or something?"

Theresa laughed at this, but the laugh held no humor behind it. "Witness protection? What is it, exactly, that he witnessed? A crime he was committing?! Corbin, besides the fact that that's _impossible_, Tommy has a laundry list of warrants. Aggravated Robbery, Arson, Felonious Assault, Possession," she ticked each one off on her fingers. "The most I could do is turn him in, and he'd spend the next 15 to 20 years in prison. And you know as well as I do that Benito Escobar has a long arm that reaches into even the most secure of prisons. He'd be dead in a week. Look at Romeo! If I hadn't pulled him out of county today, he'd be dead."

Corbin groaned in frustration, knowing that what she said was true. "Damn Theresa, you're a lawyer, can't you do something about all this?"

"Like what?! I'm an attorney, not the law. I can't stop the Police from taking him into custody if they want to, and I can't just make his warrants disappear. He never showed up for any of his court dates Corbin, do you really think they care what the hell happens to him?"

There was a pregnated silence at this, and Theresa had almost forgotten that both Raphael and Michelangelo were there until the sharp ringing of a phone came from Raph's belt. He answered it with a short, "Yeah?" and his eye ridges furrowed deeply as he listened to the person on the other line.

Raphael grimaced and held out the phone to Theresa. "Its Don, he wants to talk to you."

Theresa took the device, carefully avoiding making eye contact with the turtle in red, confusion written plainly on her face. Between Donatello and Leonardo, it was a tie who talked to her the least. What could this be about then, if Donny wanted to talk to her in the middle of a family crisis he was sure to be watching back at the lair.

"Don?"

"Yeah Theresa, listen, Leo is here, and we were thinking- OW! Ok, ok! _**I**_ was thinking, that maybe you could move your brother down here… You know, until you can find a way to keep him out of trouble."

Donny's voice sounded light and casual, and it immediately had Theresa protesting.

"No way Don! I couldn't do that to you guys! Not only would it be another burden that would be put on you all because of me, but… you don't know Tommy. He's trouble. Lots and lots of trouble."

At this statement Corbin's head shot over to her in interest, cocking his ear to vainly try and hear the conversation being held by Theresa and Donatello.

Donny sighed into the phone. "Theresa, we can handle trouble. We've dealt with all kinds of trouble. Trust me, its ok to bring him down here. Do it now while he's passed out and can't remember how to get here. Besides, if you don't being him to the lair, he'll be up there with you, and if he's really as much trouble as you say he is, he'll only be more harm to you."

Theresa hesitated at the truth of this. "I don't know Donny…"

"Here, Leo wants to talk to you."

There was a shuffling on the line, and then Leo's firm voice was speaking to her.

"Theresa, bring him down here. We can't have him screwing things up and putting you in more danger."

"No, really Leo, its ok. You don't have to-"

"Yes, I do. Just get him down here and we'll figure it all out."

And then the phone went dead.

Theresa scowled at the receiver, not sure weather to be angry about being bossed and ordered around by Leo, or even angrier for having him hang up the phone on her. Her eyes searched until she found a camera in the left hand corner of her living room.

"Hey Leo, learn some manners. You know, please, thank you, that kind of thing. And would it have killed you to say 'goodbye', or 'talk to you later', like a normal person?"

Corbin's eyes widened as he saw for the first time the cameras that surrounded Theresa's apartment. Theresa turned her head away from the camera to talk to Raphael, and was in the process of handing the cell phone back to him when it rang.

"Just answer it," Raphael said with a sigh, his eyes finding the same camera and glaring at it angrily.

Theresa pursed her lips, "Hello?"

"Theresa," It was Leo. "Could you _please_ bring your brother down to the lair? I don't want you in any more danger than you already are, and it's _no problem_ for us to keep an eye on him. My brothers and I _welcome_ the opportunity to have something to do these days. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't fight me on this, seeing as it's for your own safety. _Thank you, and I'll talk to you later._"

And then the phone was dead again.

Theresa's scowl was even more pronounced at the end of this call. She snapped the phone shut, but held up a hand when Michelangelo began to ask her what he had said.

She hit redial, and when the phone was answered it was Leo's voice that said, "What, Theresa?"

She could hear Donatello in the background saying, "_You guys are being ridiculous, give me the phone!"_

After a silent moment Theresa finally said, "… Thanks Leo."

"… You're welcome."

She hung up the phone this time and handed it to Raphael, who was rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Ok," she began purposely, "we have to get a move on it. Tommy is staying with you guys for awhile."

Michelangelo jumped in the air and whooped. "Yes! A new punching bag!"

Corbin scowled, "You're just lettin' him go down there? With _them_? And who's this Leo and Don? More…" he searched for a word, "_turtles_?"

He was standing now, facing Theresa in agitation.

Theresa's eye twitched before she answered hotly, "More _turtles_, yes. And he'll be fine down there. He'll be protected until the heat is off him and he can go somewhere else… somewhere far, _far_, away. And he doesn't have to worry about responsibility or repercussions for the time being… not that he worries about any of that anyway. And he'll be safe and he'll be away from me and my parents and everyone else whose life he ruins. Ok?"

Corbin said nothing, but clenched his jaw fiercely.

"_OK_?" Theresa repeated, crossing her arms and looking at the blonde pointedly.

Corbin said nothing for another moment. "Fine," he finally spat out. "But I go with him."

There was a collective sigh amongst the room, and it was made in confrontation and exasperation from both of the turtles and Theresa.

Theresa glared pointedly at Corbin. "You can't go," she said firmly, and both Raphael and Michelangelo were nodding in agreement.

"Why the hell not? Blind fold me, knock me out, whatever, but I should go with him. He's gonna flip when he wakes up, you really want him down there without someone he knows?"

The truth in it made Theresa hesitate, and it was in that hesitation that Corbin made his point.

"Theresa, if he wakes up and sees a bunch of turtles, he'll start swingin'. Now I think these guys can take care of themselves, but what if he can't get a grip? What if he tries to _run_? He could get hurt, he could get lost… he could die. You _know_ him. You know what he's like. He won't sit around and listen to reason. If I'm there he'll have a friend in the bunch. I'll stay as long as he does. I won't make waves, I won't cause problems… I'll be his damn babysitter."

Theresa bit her lip and looked over her shoulder at Raphael, who was glaring at Corbin with a newfound mask of loathing.

"Fine. Whatever. Let's go," he spat out, his jaw tightening when Corbin smirked.

Theresa roller her eyes and grimaced, annoyed that her brother had caused so much new drama. Michelangelo sighed as they hauled Tommy's dead weight out of the guest room and wondered what had happened to his date, and if she'd agree to go on another with him. Raphael just wanted to punch something, preferably Corbin's over confident face. Corbin laughed out loud, even as they put the blindfold over his eyes, because he knew it would irritate the one with the red bandanna… Raphael? And Tommy slept in unconscious stupor, unaware that he was being lowered swiftly into the sewer.

And at the lair Leonardo's eyes narrowed at the TV monitor, and he wondered if either of his brothers noticed the man walking past the alley, wearing a black baseball cap and looking directly at Theresa's window, as if he knew exactly what he was looking for.

_**xxx**_

_**Authors Note:**_ I suck. I suck more than normal people should. I'm SO sorry this took so long to update. I only hope that this and the next chapter will make up for my shitty updating.

Forgive me? :(

Lola. You are the best EVER. This is your story, and it WILL get finished. And I'm going to close this soon. Give me 5 or so more chapters… maybe 6, and we'll be ready to move on to Mikey, who needs a good romance, the poor guy.

Candelit… where is Mia? Why isn't she making out with Leo? Lol, I guess I don't have room to talk. :(

Kelly & Royal Frog, Thanks so much for the great reviews. You guys really made my night, and I hope this chapter pleases you. :)

I love you all, and if you review you'll make my week. :)


	14. Chapter Fourteen, Confession

_**Disclaimer:**__ Please keep in mind that this story is rated __**M**__ for mature- and that is __**not**__ limited to sexual content. It also includes coarse language, potentially offensive and descriptive situations (i.e. rape, murder, torture), and __graphic__ violence. _

_I do not own the Ninja Turtles. I do not claim any rights over this material. I make no profit from this work of fiction. _

__

_Chapter fourteen falls conveniently close to Valentine's Day, does it not? _

_**Chapter Fourteen: Confession and Heartache**_

_**xxx**_

"I want to watch Die Hard."

It was the first thing Theresa heard when she stepped into the lair. She was leading a blindfolded Corbin in by his hand (he'd gotten over the thrill of following the turtles to their lair once he'd smelled the sewers, and he was now frowning deeply). The two were following behind Raphael and Michelangelo who were carrying her brother long ways between them.

"… Yeah, ok. But the first one… I don't like the Second."

It was Leonardo, Theresa saw, who was answering Donatello.

Michelangelo's head snapped up, "You don't like the second Die Hard?!" He dropped Tommy's feet, and Raphael staggered a little with the sudden shift in weight. Tommy's head lolled forward, much like a top heavy rag doll, his chin resting on his chest. He hadn't made a sound the whole awkward way to the turtle's home, still completely unconscious.

"Damn it Mike, get his fuckin' feet," Raphael snarled, his grip tight on Tommy's upper arms. Then he too looked at Leonardo, "And you don't like the second Die Hard?"

Leonardo rolled his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, Hans Gruber is a master villain; you can't follow that with some American prisoner hell bent on leaving the country," Leo looked uninterested as he said it, as though the conversation weren't worth his time. He was watching the clock on the wall, anxious. Theresa had the sudden insight that perhaps he was waiting to see his lady friend again, and she smiled a little. Poor Leonardo, he was probably more stressed than he let on.

Donatello was nodding now, "Yeah, Alan Rickman is a great villain… his accent is off though. He doesn't sound Russian."

Mikey made a face, Tommy's ankles safely in his grasp once more as he and Raphael maneuvered to the living room couch. "German. He's supposed to be German. And are you _agreeing_ with him? Die Hard the sequel is just as kick ass as the original. They don't make movies like that anymore… except for The Notebook… that was a good movie."

Raphael let Tommy drop unceremoniously to the couch, and Michelangelo followed suite a moment later with his feet. Raphael's face looked slightly disgusted as he said, "Mike, what the _fuck_ does The Notebook have anything to do with Die Hard?"

Michelangelo grinned. "I dunno… I just liked that movie," he shrugged.

Leonardo cut in after a moments pause, "Hey, I still like Die Hard two… I just like the first one the best."

"How about we stop talking about shitty ass Bruce Willis movies and get this fuckin blindfold offa' me? Can I take this fucking thing off now? Huh?" Corbin's voice was irritated and confidant all at once. It was the voice of someone who was obviously used to being listed to when he talked, and it was the voice of an alpha. Before Corbin's question could be answered he dropped Theresa's hand, and his own hands were reaching up to tug at the blind fold- which was really only a burgundy scarf Theresa had found in her closet back at the apartment.

It happened so fast that that if Theresa had blinked she would have missed it. Leonardo's katana was unsheathed and at Corbin's throat in an instant. And Corbin, knowing from experience what a blade felt like against his skin, stiffened and did not move.

Leonardo, however, looked calm, almost bored, as if this was an action he'd preformed a hundred times over.

"Guests who invite themselves should be more respectful with their words," the leader said, putting pressure on his blade without breaking Corbin's skin.

Corbin said nothing, but his jaw clenched and worked in fury. Then Leonardo made a deft movement with his blade and the scarf fell to the floor, cut from Corbin's face without even leaving a mark on him.

"Yeah… I didn't need that scarf or anything," Theresa said, looking at the ruined material and wondering how much it had cost. She also thought silently, _'so the struggle for male dominance begins… maybe it wasn't such a good idea to mix these guys together… Although, I'll put money on Leonardo being the one who comes out of it on top…'_

"Sorry," Leo said to her, looking genuine. Then he looked at Corbin, who was still stiff because of the blade against his cheek. If the blonde was surprised by his first look at Leonardo, the largest and somehow most frightening of the four turtles, he made no show of it. The leader in blue radiated power and commanded respect. Just the look of him exuded authority, and to question or doubt him seemed, to Theresa, impossible. There was a reason he was leader, just as there was a reason that it was he, not the others, that had his katana to Corbin's jugular.

"You're here because you wanted to be with your friend," he said, quietly, calmly. "If you want to leave, you'll have to be blindfolded. If you want to stay, you'll have to be respectful. I don't want you here, but I'll put up with it," he paused a moment, measuring Corbin's strength, his determination, with his piercing brown eyes. Then he said, still calm but not in any way friendly, "You and your friend can have my room… it will probably be best if he just stays there… most people don't really take well to mutated turtles."

Leo lowered his weapon, sheathed it fluidly behind his back, and after a moment Corbin nodded. "Fine," he said, his voice hard. "I'll be a good boy."

'_Round one to Leo,'_ Theresa thought, keeping a mental score.

"But," Corbin added, keeping his hands in fists at his sides, "I'm not leaving till Tommy does"

If it had been a movie, then Theresa thought that her brother would have hit his line perfectly. As soon as the words left Corbin's mouth Tommy was groaning, and all eyes shifted to the awaking man on the sofa. Michelangelo, who was still at the end of the couch by Tommy's feet, grinned broadly and leaned forward. He was almost gleeful to be the first, potentially horrifying thing that Tommy saw.

And that's when it happened. Tommy, whose eyes were still closed, sat up and put one hand to his forehead, and held one out, palm facing Michelangelo, as if to ward off anything that would make whatever pain he was feeling disappear. The devious smile on Michelangelo's face vanished gradually, as if in slow motion, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers.

Facing the turtle, tattooed on the palm of Tommy's hand, was the black ink of an intricate cross. A cross that was so familiar that for a moment Michelangelo thought he'd been sucked into the past. Or that he'd stepped into a dream that was somehow more distorted- yet so much more clear- than his dreams usually were. Only the dream he stepped into was reality, and it was a nightmare. A horrible, excruciating, nightmare…

_**xxx**_ _(…flashback…)_

"_Please! Please don't kill me!" _

_The man was already mangled, and the pleading words must have cost him a great deal of pain considering the fact that they came through a broken jaw. _

_Or perhaps Michelangelo just hadn't hit him hard enough… _

_A green fist collided into the man's face, and there was a sickening thud and crunch as it connected with his nose. Blood spouted from his new wound, and for the moment Michelangelo's prey slipped into unconsciousness, slumping hard onto the floor. _

_They were on the roof of Jade's apartment, and two floors below them Jade's body, naked and already in the early stages of rigormortis, lay unmoving and lost. Michelangelo had played with him for a while, let him believe that there was hope of escape. They had even been more than a block away form Jade's apartment at one point. But Michelangelo had dragged him back, screaming all the way; to the place where the man had murdered the one person who Mikey had ever felt truly understood him. Raped her, and tortured her, and murdered her. _

"_Did she beg you like that?" Michelangelo asked softly, his voice an insane calm. _

_The body below him did not move. _

'_Oh right… he's unconscious,' the turtle remembered. He knelt down beside him then, still as composed as ever. Under that composure though, there was rage. It was a quiet rage, to be sure, but at the moment Hamato Michelangelo was the deadliest being on the planet, silent or not._

"_Hey, wake up," he said, cupping the back of the man's lolling head gently and slapping his face. The man didn't even flinch. Mikey looked at him closely. Was he a man? He was very young, nineteen maybe, with light brown hair and skin that looked pale through the smears of blood that covered his face. Handsome, possibly, although he had sharp features and pallid skin. _

_Michelangelo hit him harder, back handed this time, and the boy jerked and opened his eyes, groaning at the pain and immediately trying to escape from the now vice like grip Michelangelo was applying to his throat. _

"_Hey, focus for a second," Mikey said, still so calm that the man squirming beneath him had to stop and listen. _

"_You said 'please' a second ago. You asked me to please not kill you. I wanted to know if she begged you." _

_It was not a question, and some how the boy realized that through the tightening around his neck. _

_He nodded yes, just as much as the hands around his neck would allow. _

_Michelangelo brought the boy's head up off the pavement and then down again, making it smack into the concrete of the rooftop floor with a force that jarred. The boy gasped for breath, his eyes swimming in pain. _

"_Tell me," Michelangelo began, his voice the same even self-possession as it had been just moments before, as if this were any other day, and what he was doing was not anything that disturbed him in the slightest. "Tell me what she said to you." _

_The boy wheezed for a moment, and Michelangelo let his grip loosen, let sweet air fill his enemy's lungs. _

"_She… she begged me to stop," he choked. "She asked… she asked my why… Please don't do this, I'm sorry. I'll never-"_

"_Now," Michelangelo said, ignoring the boy's pleas. "She asked you why? …Well, did you answer her?" _

_There was a pause, and it was in that pause, in that cool and demanding gaze, that the boy realized he would not be leaving this experience alive. His mothers face flashed before him then, a clear image of her tear filled eyes and the shame she would feel once she found out what he had done. _

"_I didn't tell her w-why… I just t-t-told her to… to stay…quiet." Each word was a struggle for him, every sentence overflowing with sobs. _

_Michelangelo's eye twitched. "Stay quiet? That sounds very demanding of you. You raped her and killed her. Slowly. You wanted her to stay quiet too? You required that she didn't protest or question? You don't think that she deserved to at least know why she was dying?" A thread in Mikey's composure snapped for just a moment. In that moment he almost lost himself completely. He almost snapped the boy's neck as the full force of his rage nearly knocked him out. But he held back, let his heart slow its rapid beating, and he breathed; in and out, in and out. Calm. He had to be calm for this. _

_Michelangelo cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "What's your name?" he asked the boy. _

"_Parker," the boy croaked, weeping now, gasping for breath. "Parker McCoy."_

_Mikey took another deep breath before continuing. "I won't be as cruel as you then, Parker. I'll tell you why I'm killing you. I'm killing you because you just murdered someone I love… You raped her and you killed her. You… you forced her into something that she gave to me willingly. You beat her and you cut into her and she just died in my arms. You deserve to die more slowly than I could ever kill you. And if I can find your family after this, if I can find your friends and your lovers, I'll kill them to." _

_The boy shook his head then. "Don't," he begged. "Please, I know… I know why you're doing this but…but I __**had**__ to do it… for my gang… please don't kill them," Parker was thinking of his mother. Thinking of how he didn't want this to happen to her, didn't want this __thing__, this nightmare, this green abomination, to end her life._

_Michelangelo stood, and he brought Parker along with him, releasing his neck and lifting him up by his shirt. "Gang huh? Initiation then. So her death was just random, then. You didn't know her, you just picked the first place you came to and decided she was the one you killed to be accepted into your little gang. Did you have to rape her too? Was that a requirement?" _

"…"

_Parker shook his head no. No. He didn't have to rape her. He'd thought of that all on his own. _

_He closed his eyes tightly because he knew what was coming. The fist to his ribs hurt, and it came crashing down to the same spot, like an anvil, over and over again until he felt the snapping of bones. They snapped like twigs. They snapped so much easier than bones should snap. _

_Michelangelo let him go then, let him crumble at his feet. Parker was gasping and wheezing and trying in vain to catch his breath. Michelangelo reflected that he hadn't even unsheathed his nunchucks yet, that the real pain hadn't even begun. _

_Parker was trying to crawl away, and Mikey watched him for awhile in disembodied interest. He realized, not surprisingly, that he was trying to make it to the edge of the roof. _

"_Trying to throw yourself off the roof? Trying to make it all end quickly?" The turtle called. He followed him, not in any rush because he'd broken the boy's leg earlier. "No, no, no. You don't get out of it this easy."_

_Parker turned as he heard Michelangelo approach, and he lifted his right hand, palm out, in a pleading manner. _

_A black cross was tattooed there on his palm. _

"_Please," Parker gasped. "Please… just kill me." _

_The boy was sobbing again. He looked so pathetic, his arms raised in supplication of mercy, tears streaming down his bloody cheeks, his nose leaking mucus, his face red and swollen, and his eyes black and blue. He looked very young, younger than he actually was. Childlike, even. Michelangelo just looked at him, his face void of any kind of emotion. There was no pity in his face. There was no compassion or forgiveness. There was no leniency. _

"_Oh Parker," he finally said, closing the gap between them and pulling the boy up by his short brown hair. "Don't you know that begging doesn't work?" _

_He smiled at him then, a smile that was unhinged and did not reach his cold blue eyes. _

"_We have so much more time together before you get to die…"_

_**xxx**_

"You," Michelangelo said hoarsely, staring at Tommy, staring at the cross on his hand in shock and in fury. His mind was still going on with his thoughts, remembering everything that had happened that day in more detail then had ever been possible before. It had been a long time since he'd thought of the roof. Always his memories were of Jade, of her death in his arms, of her stiff body there on her apartment floor. He would remember flashes of Parker McCoy's face, of his sobbing pleas for death and God. But he never remembered the boy's torture so vividly. He never gave himself time to regret or remember. He never let himself think of the details.

But Tommy's tattoo, that black cross that was so skillfully inked onto his palm, made Michelangelo remember things that were monstrous. Made him remember that he was a monster.

"… Mike… Mikey are you ok?"

It was Theresa, and she was looking between Tommy and Michelangelo in concern and alarm. So was everyone else. Corbin, who was more confused than any of the others, had unconsciously slung a protective arm in front of Theresa. No one understood the anger on Michelangelo's face. No one comprehended the grief or the anguish. But Leonardo, closer to his youngest brother than the rest, saw him move.

The moment Tommy opened his eyes he also opened his mouth to scream. It was the normal reaction for almost everyone when they first saw a mutated turtle, more like a monster from a storybook, looking down upon them. And it was in that moment that Michelangelo sprang. His hands, huge and deadly (more a lethal weapon-really), were reaching towards Tommy's neck, his body lunging at him with deadly intent. The alarm it caused everyone made them late to react, made them shocked into stillness. But not Leonardo. He was, for maybe the first time in his life, faster than Michelangelo, who was without a doubt quicker than all of them. The leader's arms were around Michelangelo's waist in a flash and Leo was pulling him down onto the floor, scuffling with him until Mikey was pinned down, laying on his stomach, Leo's knee shoved firmly in between his shoulders.

This all happened in less time than it took to bat an eye.

"Calm down," Leonardo hissed at Mikey, digging his knee harder into Michelangelo's shoulder blades. The younger brother twisted and struggled for a moment, and then all at once went limp. Leonardo did not lessen his grip on the back of Mikey's head.

Mikey inhaled deeply. "Let me go… I won't do anything just let me go."

The room was silent, and Leo was breathing heavily because of the strength it had taken to bring Mikey down.

"What's wrong with you?" he began, shoving his knee more firmly into Mikey's spine. "Where the _hell_ did that come from?"

Michelangelo took a deep breath. "Let. Me. _**Go**_."

Theresa flinched. She'd never, _ever_, heard Michelangelo that angry. Never heard him that serious or demanding. Leonardo moved slowly, cautiously, off Mikey's back, hovering over him as he stood. Michelangelo didn't move immediately. Instead he lay there, breathing, trying to push away the image of Parker McCoy. Trying to push away the image of the black cross. That _fucking_ black cross.

"Tommy," Michelangelo ground out, and Tommy jumped and looked across the room to his sister. Theresa only looked back at him, lost, unable to explain anything. Corbin, however, moved to him, standing next to him by the couch, readying himself in case Mikey should decide to spring again.

"Tommy," Mikey said again, and his voice was frightening. "Where did that tattoo come from?" It was a demand.

Michelangelo stood. His body shook with rage, and it looked as though it was taking every ounce of his willpower to keep from attacking Tommy.

"_**Where?!"**_

Theresa jumped when Mikey yelled, because she had not expected it. Because it scared her more than anything had ever done so in her life, even more than her stalker. She inched forward to stand next to Raphael, and when she clutched his hand, he did not pull away. Instead, he held it tightly in his own, as if he were just as shocked as she by Michelangelo's outburst.

But Tommy, as commanding as Michelangelo's voice was, could not answer the large turtle. He'd been terrified into silence.

So Corbin answered for him, wide eyed and hesitant, but also clear and straightforward. "It's the brand that the South Sider's give its members. They tattoo it onto them once they join."

Corbin grabbed Tommy's hand and pried it open (he'd been clutching the sides of the couch), holding it out for Mikey to see.

Michelangelo leaned forward a bit, his eyes narrowed, his breathing erratic. No one said anything. There was something different about Tommy's cross, Mikey noticed. While Parker McCoy's had only been the outline of a cross, Tommy's was inked so that it was entirely black.

"Why isn't it only an outline? I saw one on someone once… it wasn't all black like that though."

Corbin, for once in his life, answered without thought of how it would best serve his own needs. "The cross is a map," he began. "On the South Side of Manhattan there's a place where two streets meet, St. Clair and 3rd, and that's what the cross is. When guys are first joining the gang, they only get the outline. It's sort of a way to show other members that they haven't been initiated yet. Then, once they pass the test, they get it inked so it's solid black."

"_Please, I know… I know why you're doing this but…but I __**had**__ to do it… for my gang…"_

Michelangelo held his breath as he remembered Parker McCoy's words. Killing Jade had been his initiation, he'd always know that. But if Tommy had a solid cross, it meant he had already passed his test.

"Tommy," Michelangelo said through clenched teeth, his biceps flexing with the strain of his anger. "What did you do to get that black cross?"

Before Tommy could answer (and he made no move to do so), Corbin began laughing.

"Do?" he guffawed, "Ha! He didn't do _shit!_ He promised ta kill Benito Escobar. Benito-Fucking-Escobar! Tommy's a fucking lunatic to even _think_ he could do that. And the South Siders? They just as fucking _stupid_ for believing it, which is why when they realized Tommy couldn't do shit; they fed him to the wolves. Fuck wolves' man, they fed him to the _wolf_. Cus that's what Benito is, turtle boy, he's a fucking wolf. And Tommy? Fucking Tommy is an idiot. He helped some guys jack a few cars and he sold some dope, but other than that he didn't do shit. Empty promises, that's all Tommy gave em'."

Theresa just barley held back from adding, _'that's all he ever gives anyone.' _

Michelangelo did not see the humor in Corbin's assertion. Nothing was funny about that cross, which was now hidden under Tommy's thigh. For Michelangelo, it was as though Parker McCoy had risen from the grave.

"Still," Mikey said, and he didn't finish what he said but began to pace up and down the side of the couch. To watch him was to watch someone who the suddenly lost control of reigns that no one had realized were wound so tightly. Reigns that, when let go of, would be harder to gain control of once more. Harder than anyone in the room realized.

"Uh… Mike…" it was Donatello, and he looked nervous looking between both his youngest brother and Tommy. The _Die Hard_ DVD was clutched tightly in his grasp.

Michelangelo stopped his pacing and looked up at his brother.

"Mike… what's going on? You're scaring us," Donny looked pointedly at Theresa when he said this, as if to say _'you're scaring her.' _

Mikey's wild eyes found Theresa's, and when they met, Theresa flinched and leaned into Raphael. Michelangelo's face morphed instantly from anger to regret. To pain and sadness and remorse. His eyes, looking everywhere, seeing everyone, finally found Tommy's

"He… he's just in that gang… that gang that…" he breathed deeply, and his face lost the sadness and went blank. "He's in the same gang as Parker McCoy."

The room seemed to grow stiff with understanding. Only the three humans were unknowing of what this meant. The turtles, however, knew what Michelangelo was telling them. It hadn't been long after Mikey had made it home that night, only five short months ago, that the news had flashed Parker McCoy's face on the screen and implicated him in Jade's murder. Traces of his DNA had been found inside Jade's apartment (and her body); although it was a mystery to both police and special investigators how Parker had ended up murdered himself. It wasn't a mystery to Michelangelo's brothers though, who were quick to see what this meant their young, carefree brother had done. And it wasn't as though he hadn't admitted it when Leonardo had confronted him about it that same night, more angry than any of the turtles had ever seen him before.

**CRACK!**

Every head in the room whipped to Donatello, who was now holding the broken DVD case in his hands. His eyes were on Tommy, but he was in better control of himself than Michelangelo. He only breathed in deeply before he took a step back, looking down guiltily.

But it was enough. Enough for something in Michelangelo's head to start ticking. To start fitting together a puzzle he hadn't even known was in front of him.

"… Donny. What's wrong?" Michelangelo's voice was calm, but his head was cocked to the side, and his eyes were narrowed. He looked as if he were just seeing Donatello for the first time in five months. His brother was skinny. He'd lost weight. He looked tired and stressed. He looked… he looked like Mikey did. He looked depressed.

"Nothing," Donny mumbled, taking another step back, dropping the DVD case that was two separate pieces at his feet.

"Donatello," Mikey said, and Raphael flinched when he heard this because he knew what was coming. It was like seeing a movie and knowing what was going to happen before either lead character even had a clue.

"Donatello," Michelangelo said again, his voice firm. "_What's_. _Wrong_."

Donny was shaking his head, moving backwards, looking down, determined not to meet Michelangelo's eyes.

"Mike," Leonardo began, watching with confusion and unease as Donatello backed away and Michelangelo advanced, each step back causing the other to take a larger step forward. "Mike, maybe you should calm dow-"

"Shut up Leo! Just stay out of it!" Michelangelo sounded more out of control than ever, and he raised his hand to Leonardo in a motion that clearly said, _'don't talk to me.' _

Leonardo clamped his mouth shut firmly, and Mikey focused his attention back to Donatello.

"Don. Tell me now…"

"…"

The pause made Michelangelo's eye twitch. _**"NOW!" **_

But the only thing that Donny could whisper, his hands shaking in sadness and fear and regret, was, "I'm sorry."

Mikey was breathing like he'd run a 10k. Heaving as though someone had punched him in the stomach, had ripped out his heart.

"You," he was finally able to say through the anger that was quickly blinding him to all things rational. "It was _you_. You were _**fucking**_ her! You were the one she was seeing. _**You.**_ You- you fucking- you… I'm going to… Ah!"

It was as if an explosion went off. Michelangelo screamed and leapt, and both he and Donatello went down in what sounded like two boulders colliding.

"I'll kill you!" Michelangelo was yelling. "I'll fucking kill you!"

Both Leonardo and Raphael were there in an instant

"Get off him Mike, he's not even fighting you back!" Leo yelled, trying to pull Michelangelo up by his shoulders. Raphael, cursing loudly, was trying to pull Mikey's fist away from Donny's skull.

Michelangelo shrugged them off, punching every part of his genius brother he could find, his fist colliding into his face with the force of a wrecking ball. Raphael and Leo both grabbed his shoulders then, yanking him up to his feet and pulling him back, struggling the whole way.

"Let me go! I'll kill him! I'll fucking kill him!"

Donatello got to his feet slowly, wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. He looked sadly at Mikey through quickly swelling eyes. He staggered and limped back a step. Michelangelo fought with everything in him against his two brothers, and Leonardo and Raphael were having trouble keeping him away from Donatello.

"I'll fucking kill you, you bastard! Let me go! LET ME _**GO**_!"

Michelangelo's foot hooked around Raphael's ankle, and with an arm he had freed he elbowed him hard in the face. Raph fell backwards, and with his left side now completely liberated Michelangelo swung and hit Leonardo in the jaw. Leo's head snapped back at the force of the punch, but his grip did not loosen. Mikey leaned his weight into him then, and they both went crashing to the floor. It only took a second for Michelangelo to detangle himself from his oldest brother, and he was on his feet quickly.

When he hit Donatello in the face, his knuckles splitting with force, Donatello did not fight back. He didn't even raise his arms to defend or cover his face.

"Fight me you fucking coward!" Mikey screamed, and he punched Donny again; so hard that he collapsed to the ground. "FIGHT ME!"

He stood over his fallen brother and went to kick him while he was down, but Leo and Raph were there, pulling him back again.

Leo was angry. "You'll fight someone who won't fight back?!" he bellowed, panting at the effort to hold his brother back.

Mikey strained, ignoring him. "You'll fuck her?! You'll FUCK her but you won't _fight me_?! FIGHT ME! I'll fucking kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Donatello got to his knees, spitting blood, holding his sides. He did not look at Michelangelo. Theresa, who had been too shocked and frightened to do anything but watch, moved forward and helped Donny to his feet.

The dramatic shift it caused in Michelangelo's behavior, to see Theresa, was unpredicted. He clamped his mouth shut and went stock still, allowing his brothers to get a firmer hold or him. Raphael seized him so tightly he left bruises on his brother's arms, the image of Michelangelo swinging at Theresa suddenly entering his mind. But Michelangelo went limp in his brother's grasp.

"… I won't do anything… just let me go so I can leave," Mikey finally said, his voice quiet and his breathing hard.

After a shared glance, both Leonardo and Raphael released their brother. Leo stayed close by his side, ready to spring in case he should happen to direct his rage at Donny once more. Raphael, however, went and stood in front of both Theresa and Donny, his whole body radiating possessiveness, his whole demeanor reading protector.

Michelangelo didn't do anything, however. He only stood there for a moment, looking at Theresa, his eyes pleading her for forgiveness, before he turned and stalked out of the lair. The stone door slid shut with a discouraging finality.

There was a moment of silence, a moment of unease, before Leo said commandingly to Raphael, "Call Amy. Tell her to get down here _now_. Donny need's help."

And at that, Donatello collapsed once more.

_**xxx**_

"He'll be fine," Amy was saying, sliding Donny's door shut behind her. Her lips were in a tight frown as she looked up at Leonardo. It was two hours later, past midnight now, and Amy looked tired and stressed. She ran a hand over her face, wondering if there was any instant coffee left in the turtle's cupboards.

"…Did you know, Leo?" she asked, and it wasn't hard to guess at what she was referring.

Leo shook his head. "I… I had no idea. I didn't think Donny would do that to Mike."

Amy clenched her jaw. "What about what Mikey just did to Donny?"

Leo looked down at her, sad. "Amy, nothing Mikey does anymore surprises me."

Amy bit her lip and nodded. "He was pretty angry then?" she asked.

Leonardo blew air from his nose, "You have no idea."

Amy sighed, "What are you going to do?"

Leo said nothing for a moment. "…I'll call April and Casey. We could use their help…"

Across the room, sitting between her brother and Corbin, Theresa turned her head and watched Leonardo and Amy's exchange of words. Felling eyes on him, Leo turned his head and met her gaze. He excused himself from Amy and walked across the room to Theresa.

"You ok?" he asked, standing in front of her, holding a hand out for her to take.

She took it, tentative, letting him pull her to her feet and away from Corbin and Tommy. The two only watched her go and remained silent, not protesting as she was lead away. Tommy still had yet to say anything, and Corbin was fighting to keep his eyes open, let alone protest as the large turtle led Theresa away from his side.

Once they were out of ear shot, Theresa said to Leonardo, "I can't believe that all just happened."

Leonardo shook his head. "It'll be ok," he said taking her shoulders and bending his knees so they were eye level.

Theresa nodded forlornly. "Do you think Raph will find Mikey?" she asked softly.

It was going on an hour that Raphael had been gone, looking for Mikey. He hadn't looked hopeful when he left.

Leo sighed, letting his hands drop from her shoulders and shaking his head. "If Mikey doesn't want to be found… there's nothing Raph can do. He'll come around eventually… and then we'll all work through this."

"Do you still want my brother here?"

Leo looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.

"Why would I care if they stayed?" he asked, referring to both Tommy and Corbin.

Theresa shrugged, "I don't know… there's a lot going on right now, and if both Mikey and Donny aren't able to help…"

Leo shook his head and grasped her hands. "Stop. We'll figure everything out. It's fine."

Theresa pressed her lips together. "But… what about Splinter? Isn't this too much? To take care of him and my idiot brother and Donny and… Oh! I don't know if I can keep doing this!" Her eyes began to swim. "Leo, I'm hurting everyone! This is my fault. If I hadn't brought my stupid brother down here, none of this would have happened," she was crying now, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

Leonardo opened his mouth to comfort her when he heard the lair's door slide open. He looked up in time to see Raphael stride in; shaking his head to indicate that he hadn't found Michelangelo.

"Here, Raph's back," Leo said, motioning his brother over with a jerk of his head. "He'll tell you the same thing I will. This isn't your fault Theresa. All of this had to happen eventually."

Raphael came up next to them, and when he saw that Theresa was crying his eyes widened and he pulled her out of Leo's grasp and into his arms.

"It's my fault," she wept into his chest, crying harder as Raphael's arms wrapped around her.

Raphael looked to his brother for help, completely bewildered, but Leo had already walked away, back to Amy, without a backwards glance.

"Hush," Raphael finally said, not unkindly, guiding her across the lair. "None of this is your fault."

He led her into his room, shutting the door behind him and setting her on the cushioned chair at the end of his bed. He bent down in front of her, resting on his heels and looking up into her face, which she had covered with her hands. He reached up and pulled them away.

"Hey… this aint your fault."

Theresa gulped and sniffed. "It feels like my fault," she said, taking her hands away from Raphael's to wipe her eyes.

Raph shook his head. "Nah, you just feel that way because you didn't know what was going on. If you had known Donny fucked Mike's girlfriend, you wouldn't feel guilty. But since you didn't know, and Don got his ass kicked, maybe you feel like you should take the blame for bringin' your brother down here. Well, don't. I told Donny this was gonna happen. I told him Mikey would be pissed. No one ever fucking listens to me."

"You knew?" Theresa asked, breathing deeply to keep the tears at bay.

"Don told me… well, I figured it out a week ago and _made_ Don tell me. I guess they both realized they liked each other, and that's why Jade broke up with Mike… Don says they didn't get together until about two months after."

Theresa stopped breathing for a moment, her thoughts racing with a sudden realization. "Raph," she said, instantly in tears once more. "She was murdered three months after she broke up with Mike, that's what you said. …Raph, that means… that means they only had a month together before she _died_."

She fell forward, onto Raphael's shoulder, sobbing at the injustice of death. It had ripped apart the lives of the living. Michelangelo was a mess, a shadow of his former self. And Donatello? He'd only gotten a month.

Theresa cried harder at that thought. One simple, completely inadequate month.

"Please don't leave me," Theresa sobbed, clutching Raphael's shoulders, thinking of how short a month was. "Please don't go."

And Raphael, realizing for the first time how that one month must haunt Donatello, gripped Theresa close to him and did not leave.

_**xxx**_

Author's Note: Wow! Look how quick I updated! Aren't you proud? :)

Hope you enjoyed this depressing chapter. It's my gift to you all for Valentine's Day, which is an evil holiday and should be abolished… Yeah, I'm bitter.

More to come soon, although it may take a bit longed with an update this time. Thanks to all who reviewed, you know I appreciate it. And please, don't hesitate to hit the review button. You know you want to. ;)

Much love to you all, and enjoy your Valentine's Day (gags).


	15. Chapter Fifteen, The Scent of Vanilla

_**Disclaimer:**_

This story is rated **M** for **Mature**. You see that? _**M**_!

Also, I don't own the turtles. …Damn. :(

_**xxx**_

_**Chapter Fifteen: The Scent of Vanilla**_

_**xxx**_

Leonardo stretched his legs as he lay on the bed, enjoying the feel of the soft cotton sheets below him. He felt, for the first time in hours, days, weeks, at peace. It was late at night, or very early in the morning, on the same evening as the incident between Michelangelo and Donatello. He'd left shortly after calling April (he'd woken her up and scared the shit out of her), and then he'd been here on this bed, releasing his frustrations and stress all the rest of the night.

It was still remarkable to him how sex could put him back into a sane frame of mind, how sex could relax him to a point where he would forget entirely what his problems had been about in the first place. When he was younger, it was something he was ashamed of, something he thought of as weak. He was a creature, animalistic in every way, what right did he have to enjoy something so… _sacred_? But sex, he'd soon found, _was_ animalistic in every way, just like him. And it certainly wasn't anything to be ashamed of.

If Karai had taught him anything in times of his youth (anything besides betrayal and heartbreak), it was at least that.

There was a light feminine sigh next to him, and then a hand slid up his abdomen to rest on his chest plates. Her body framed itself against his side, and her head lay on his shoulder, her pale blonde hair fanning out on the pillow and his arm.

Leonardo moaned at the feel of her naked body and smiled, turning and pulling her to him, one of her legs going between his own and the other wrapping over his thigh.

"Thank you, Colette," he murmured in her ear, nipping at it as he let his hands wander down her back.

She replied to him in French, and Leonardo smiled wider before he chuckled.

"In English woman," he said, kissing her neck, pressing her more tightly to him.

Colette rolled onto her back and pulled Leo along with her, so that he was over top of her once more.

"I said, thank you Leo, I've been missing you." Her voice was accented and soft, her hands massaging the back of his neck. She brought her head up to meet him in a deep kiss, shivering as Leonardo's hand rest caressingly on her stomach. She loved this. Everything about making love to Leonardo was amazing. And maybe she didn't love him, and most definitely he didn't love her, but she loved _this_. His body, his hands, his kisses, his… how did you say it? Stamina. She loved it. _Any_ sane girl would. When he made love, he did nothing else. He was only there, with her, touching her, caressing her, sending her into orgasmic oblivion.

"How can I still want you?" she asked, laughing, looking at her bedside clock. "It is almost five o clock in the morning. You have kept me up all night."

Leonardo buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, which was mixing with the scent of her musk perfume. "Do you work today?" he asked, and his hands went lower, caressing and petting, but avoiding where she needed him most.

Colette groaned and arched, "No, no work, thank God," she said, and then she followed with something in rapid French.

Leonardo grinned wider. It was a stupid thing, a childish thing, but he loved the French. He loved the accent. It drove him crazy with desire, made him want to lose control sometimes.

His fingers found her center, warm and wet, and he went deep inside of her, relishing in her gasp. "I said English." His voice was strained and husky.

She ignored him and continued in French, and he felt a wave of lust rush through his body. He removed his fingers and held himself up with both hands on either side of her head, looking at her with a small humored half-grin. Her eyes flew open, she was panting.

"I said you torture me, please don't stop."

He laughed at that, a deep rough chuckle that made Colette's whole body tingle with anticipation. Leonardo gazed down at her, his eyes darkening and his whole body ignited with the need to be inside of this beautiful, welcoming woman. To touch her, to kiss her, please her. To have her please him in return. For her to help him forget about his life, about the ever building stress, even if it was only for a few more hours. _This_ is what he needed. This distraction, this sweet, sweet distraction.

"All day," he said to her, kissing her lips lightly and replacing his hand back to where it had been, working hard to make sure he'd have her speaking in French well into the daylight. "We have all day."

_**xxx**_

A week went by after the incident between Michelangelo and Donatello, and Theresa felt her heart ache in sadness. Mikey still had not turned up, Donny looked like he'd been trampled on by a heard of wild horses, and on top of that Theresa was preparing to meet April and Casey Jones.

April O'Neil-Jones and Casey Jones.

She felt her breathing start to become erratic. It had taken a week for the red headed woman the turtle all loved and revered to be able to take time off from her job and travel from the country farmhouse where she and her husband now lived full time, to the city and the sewers. The week, Theresa reflected, hadn't been long enough. Her heart tremored and she breathed deeply, in and out, thinking she probably looked like she was practicing Lamaze. Meeting Casey wouldn't be so bad, but April?

'_Don't think about it,'_ she thought, squeezing a bright red stress ball and tapping her pen. She was seated behind her desk at her work, files lying forgotten in front of her. _'Don't think about the fact that you're meeting April Jones, the freaking pinochle of the turtle's lives.' _

Theresa gave a frustrated howl and threw her pen across the room. It skittered on her offices hardwood flooring and then broke in two when it hit her closed door. "Damn," she mumbled, standing and gathering the broken pieces of the fountain pen. Ink spilled onto her hands and her cream jacket, and Theresa snarled and bit her lip, holding back tears.

"I hate this," she whispered, throwing the pen into her wicker waste basket and looking down at the damage to her designer suit. It was ruined. She been planning on this being the outfit she wore to meet April, but apparently she'd need to change before she went. She shrugged the jacket off and added it to the trash can, beginning to pace now in her silken blouse and trousers.

'_Amy,'_ she thought, clenching her jaw furiously. _'This is all Amy's fault.'_

And it was. Theresa had heard Raphael mention April, and Michelangelo spoke of her often, but the nervousness of meeting her hadn't actually set in until Amy had spoken to her.

"She's like a saint to them," Amy had said, waving her arms about. "She is the red head goddess, the green eyed deity. One wrong move and your toast. She doesn't like you? Kiss the ground you walk on goodbye!"

Theresa had blanched. "W-what? It's not possible! I already went through this with you!! You're telling me that they like someone more than they like _you_? That I have to impress her too?!!"

Amy laughed. "You thought you had to impress _me_? Listen honey, I'm nothing compared to April. Don't get me wrong, I like the woman, but if we'd butted heads I wouldn't be speaking to the guys anymore, and not on my accord either. I've known them for two years. April's known them for over _eight_. She's like Mom to them… or something."

Amy had looked across the kitchen table at Theresa, who was wide eyed and looked like she was waiting for something heavy, like an anvil in one of those road runner cartoons, to drop on her head.

"Hey, don't flip. It's cool, April's a nice chick. She'll like you."

But Amy's words hadn't helped, not really. April O'Neil-Jones was a family friend. She was part of turtle history, part of past turtle adventures. If they didn't get along, as many women didn't, did that really mean that Theresa was out of the turtle's lives?

She thought for a moment about asking Raphael if this were true, but immediately shoved the thought aside. She didn't want to make waves in the odd new friendship they had formed together.

Raphael, in the wake of what had happed between Mikey and Donny, had been the only one able to keep an eye on her. Donny was still in his bed, recovering from a broken rib and head trauma, and Mikey was still a-wol. Leonardo was left to take care of not only Donatello and Splinter, but to also keep an eye on Tommy and Corbin. Although, they didn't need much looking after. Corbin, who was quickly forming a bond with Leonardo, kept watch of Tommy. And Tommy was left to his own devices most of the time, talking only to Corbin when he could pull him to the side. When Theresa wasn't at work, she was down in the lair, helping with what she could. And when she wasn't at the lair, she was asleep, and Raphael was camped out on the floor next to her bed.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor," she'd told him the first night he'd laid there, keeping his body between her bed and her mattress, covering himself with a heavy blanket her grandmother had made for her when Theresa had been thirteen.

"This way I'm right here if he tries anything," Raphael had grunted, speaking of the stalker. "Leo can't really keep an eye on the surveillance now that Donny's all busted up."

There had been quiet in the dark room before Theresa had said, "No, I mean… you could sleep up here… with me."

"…"

The pause had been a long one, and then, just when Theresa thought he was going to ignore her offer, Raphael replied, "No, I'm fine. Just go to sleep Theresa."

And that had been it. They'd not spoken a word about the bathroom incident, nor about his promise to come back to her. They avoided the topic at all costs, and if Theresa seemed like she was about to bring it up, Raphael would hurriedly change the subject, or pick a movie for the two of them to watch.

"Ridiculous," Theresa mumbled, slowing her pacing steps and looking across the room and out her open office window. She sighed, closing her eyes and counting backwards from fifty. When she finished, she opened her eyes and smiled. It was a strained smile, to be sure, but she was trying. So her life was full of drama? So what. She had dealt with a psychopathic stalker for over two weeks now. She'd dealt with broken windows and late night attacks and sexual frustration. She had a friend that was missing, a brother that was full of trouble, and a life that was hectic enough that she would probably drop dead from over stimulation. She could deal with April O'Neil.

She returned behind her desk, leaning back in it and ignoring the voice that was yelling, _'April O'Neil is going to eat you alive!'_

"Shut up," she told the phantom voice firmly, pulling the forgotten files to her and opening one with purpose. "If she was such an un-agreeable person the guy's wouldn't be friends with her."

She sat there for a little over ten minutes, finally getting into her work enough that she'd been able to power up her computer, when there was a loud shout from outside her door.

"Get out of here!" someone yelled in the hall.

And then a deeper, meaner voice replied, "Where the _fuck_ is she?"

Her door banged open, and there in the frame stood Benito Escobar.

He was huge, tall and menacing, with bronzed skin, black hair, and eyes that were small and dark and disturbing. He took up almost the entire frame of the door, his hair grazing the top as the walked through and stood at the opposite end of Theresa's desk, leaning down and putting his massive hands flat on the costly mahogany wood.

"Where's your fuckin' brother?" he growled, and Theresa was reminded of what a bear must look like, snarling at its prey.

Theresa saw Justin enter behind him, red faced and angry.

"Get the fuck out of here you shit for brains!" he bellowed, grabbing Theresa's desk phone and dialing 911. Benito scowled and knocked the phone from Justin's hands. It went scattering across the room, much like the pen Theresa had thrown earlier had.

When Benito Escobar had been a cop, every decent officer on the force had despised him. His ethics had been twisted, his methods biased, and his personality over bearing and over confident. He'd never really fit the roll of Peace Officer appropriately. When he'd been caught helping local gangs smuggle drugs into the community no one had been surprised, and no one had been sad to see him go. As a member of the city's gang community, his presence wasn't much different. Most thugs didn't like him, every law breaker distrusted him, and even hardened criminals avoided him. The only difference was the elements. Out in the world of crime, Benito was in his own. He was respected from the fear he caused, and because of that fear people did what he asked.

Justin Hunt turned redder, if possible, as Benito Escobar stared down at him.

"Get the fuck out of this office," Justin snarled through clenched teeth, his shoulders broadening in what was probably an effort to make himself look bigger.

Benito smiled, sneering at Justin and turning to focus his small hawk-like eyes on Theresa.

"I'm just here to talk," he said to her, his voice eerily calm. "That's ok, right Theresa?"

Theresa took a deep breath, willing her beating heart to slow before it burst out of her chest, like something out of the movie _Alien_.

"I think maybe you should go Benito," Theresa said calmly, showing none of the fear that was racing through her.

"There, you see. You're not invited. Get out," Justin was spitting he was so angry, and Benito clenched his jaw and actually turned and curled his upper lip at Justin before he focused his attention back to Theresa.

"I just wanna know where your brother is, that's all Theresa. Tell me where your brother is and I'll leave."

He was crazy. His eyes were unhinged; his body quivering with anger, and the corners of his mouth had collected a fair amount of stray saliva.

"Listen, Benito," Theresa began her voice firm and her back straight, "I don't know where my brother is. He's on the run apparently, and if you knew me you'd know that I wouldn't harbor a fugitive, _especially_ if it's my idiot brother. Now get out of my Goddamn office before I have you arrested for breaking and entering."

Theresa stood and pointed at her door, thankful that her hands didn't shake.

Benito's eye twitched. "Yeah? Well what about Corbin? That piece of shit's gone missing too. You seen him, bitch?"

Before Theresa could answer Justin threw his hands up in exasperation, "Fuck this," he spat, and he stalked out the room, a steady string of curses exuding from him the whole way out.

Theresa felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. Had Justin really just left her on her own? With a lunatic?

'_Fucking asshole!'_

But before Benito could even turn his attention back to Theresa, Justin was back, followed by Ethan Shempski (who looked scared out of his mind), and holding a 9mm glock. He cocked the gun and pointed it straight at Benito's head.

"I said get the fuck out."

Theresa quickly moved out from behind her desk and the line of fire, standing to the side and watching wide eyed as Benito looked at the gun and smiled.

"You got a gun, pretty boy? You gonna fuckin pull the trigger?"

Theresa watched Justin sight at Benito's forehead. "Just keep talking you fucking cock sucker."

"Umm, okay boys, lets just calm down," it was Ethan, who was looking at Benito as though he were the scariest thing since Freddy or Rosemary's Baby.

Both Justin and Benito told Ethan to shut up, but Justin said, "Shut up, Ethan," While Benito said, "Shut up, faggot."

Ethan clamped his mouth shut and walked behind Justin until he was beside Theresa, looking at her as if to convey, _'what the hell is going on?!'_ But Theresa ignored him and focused instead on Benito and Justin.

Justin, with his head of blonde curls and expensive black suit, looked as out of place with a gun in his high class hands as he could. But as incongruous as he looked, there was no fear in his eyes, and his hands were steady. He looked like a man that would pull the trigger. "I said get the fuck out."

Benito was still grinning, his teeth feral and gleaming white. "I'll go, tough guy. But you better watch your back. I've got my eye on you, motha' fucka'."

He walked past Justin, still grinning like a maniac, and Justin moved away from the door and followed with the gun pointed at Benito's head.

"Tell your fucking worthless brotha' that I'm coming for him, Theresa." Benito called this over his shoulder, and as he did so he waved, showing the black cross that had been tattooed onto his palm.

So Benito was now a South Sider. _Wonderful_.

Benito walked into the hall and out the front door, letting it slam behind him, and Justin waited a few moments before he lowered his right arm and let the gun point down to the floor.

There was a full minute of silence before Justin said, "Holy fucking shit." He turned and leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to his chest.

"Its not even fucking loaded," he breathed out, throwing the gun at his feet and running his hands over his face.

Theresa, shocked and frightened and more than a little angry, walked shakily to her desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. She extracted a large, almost full bottle of brandy and, ignoring the glasses that were also in the drawer, uncorked the bottle and took a large fiery swig of it. It burned on the way down.

Justin held out his arm and Theresa walked to him and handed him the bottle, sitting next to him and leaning her head on the wall.

"Someone should call the police, or Lawrence," Ethan said coming to stand in front of both of them.

Justin coughed and handed the bottle back to Theresa. "Fuck that," he choked out. "We'll tell Lawrence when he gets out of court, but we're not calling the cops."

Theresa nodded in agreement. "He's right, calling the police is a dumb move. Besides the fact that a report against Benito won't even hold him in jail, Justin could probably get into some trouble for pointing a gun at an unarmed man."

"Pointing an _unregistered_ gun at an unarmed man," Justin corrected, snatching the bottle back from Theresa and drinking again. "It was a gift from a client," Justin verified, nodding at the gun that lay in front of him.

Ethan made a face, pushing his glassed up in nose and squinting down at them "All that aside," he said, pacing in front of them. "What if Benito is Theresa's stalker?"

Justin laughed, "Hell no. Benito Escobar isn't patient enough to stalk anything."

Justin stopped laughing and put his head between his knees, suddenly breathing heavily. "Holy shit," he said. "I just pointed a gun at Benito Escobar. I'm fucking dead."

"It can't be that bad," Ethan said, stopping his pacing and looking down at Justin.

"Not that bad?" Justin asked, looking up at Ethan and running a hand through his curly hair. "Benito is a fucking nut. You know how may people have disappeared because they happened to piss that guy off?"

Theresa bit her lip. It was true. A person could do something as simple as step on the man's toes, and a week later they'd disappeared off the face of the earth. Every once in a while one would be found floating face down in the river, a bullet between their eyes.

Justin grimaced and said, "I just really hate that guy. I _hate_ him. You know how many fucking complaints I get about him? You know how many female clients I have telling me he forced himself onto them?"

Theresa knew exactly what Justin was referring to. As a lawyer Justin dealt exclusively in Criminal Defense. A handful of his clients were prostitutes, and it was well know that Benito Escobar took what he wanted from women, especially hookers. And, with the connections that Benito had from previously being on the force, none of the charges ever stuck. It was hard to convict someone of rape when the accused sold her body for money.

"Shit," Justin breathed, tugging at his hair and drinking again from the bottle. "I'm gonna have to buy bullets… and an alarm system… and a fucking dog."

Theresa grinned, the smile not really reaching her eyes. "Welcome to my world."

Justin gave a barking laugh and handed the bottle to Theresa, who took a deep drink and held back a gag as alcohol seared down her throat.

"You two are being melodramatic," Ethan said, putting his hands in his pockets and looking down at them in disapproval.

"Ethan," Justin began, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. "You do fucking divorces. You do misdemeanors, and small claims, and taxes, and civil filings. You don't do Criminal law. Theresa knows what I'm talking about when I say that Benito Escobar is the craziest, most fucked up guy you'll ever meet. He eats guys like you and me for breakfast."

Theresa nodded in affirmation, but Ethan scoffed. "Please Justin; if he's that bad you'd be calling the cops."

Justin shook his head and closed his eyes, "It's _because_ he's that bad that I'm not calling the cops."

Theresa understood. Any chance of survival at this point was based on how Justin acted. If he filed a report, he'd be dead by the end of the night.

"Alright," Theresa said, corking the bottle and standing. She swayed a little, and then held her hand out to Justin. He took it and stood, but he didn't sway like Theresa had.

"We're going to the pound," Theresa said, walking back to her desk and placing the Brandy into the bottom drawer and extracting her purse.

"Pound?" Justin asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Really?"

"Yes, the pound. First you're going to buy some bullets at the ammo shop down the road, I'll call a security service for you, and then we're going to the pound." Theresa walked across the office to her phone and picked it up. It was miraculously still intact; and as soon as she plugged it back into the wall it started ringing.

She answered on the second ring.

"You cell is on vibrate in your purse. I've been calling since that psycho walked inta' your building,"

It was Raph.

"Oh thank God," Theresa sighed, collapsing into her chair. Ethan and Justin watched her from across the room.

"Yeah, well, you're lucky I didn't just blow my cover and fucking _kill_ that asshole."

Theresa groaned and slouched in her chair, "Why didn't you?" she asked.

"I was outside yer window the whole time. I was about to when that jackass walked out and left you on your own. Then he came back with guns blazing and I was worried about puttin' you in any more danger. What is it with you an danger anyway? You're like a fucking magnet…"

He went on, ranting, and Theresa let him. He was obviously angry, and she got that. She was pretty angry about the whole thing, too.

"And Benito!" Raphael continued, and Theresa could swear that she heard him yell it not only in her ear, but carried through her office window as well. "I'll _kill_ that sonnuva bitch! Your brother is a fucking idiot. This is all his fault. Agh!"

Theresa slouched even lower in her chair and closed her eyes. He kept raving for a few minutes after that, mostly cussing and yelling and inventing colorful new ways of killing Benito Escobar, when Theresa finally said, "Umm, Raph? I've gotta go. See you at home?"

There was a pause, in which she could hear Raphael breathing heavily on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah… I'll see you at home…" He paused and then added, "I'm not far from you today. You need help, yell."

The phone went dead, and Theresa smiled.

"Alright Justin," she said, standing and adjusting her purse strap. "Let's go!"

"Who the hell was that?" Ethan asked as she walked past him, Justin shrugging and following her. He'd tucked the gun in the waist of his jeans, and he buttoned his jacket so it hid the butt of the glock.

Theresa smiled at Ethan. "A friend," was all she said in answer before she stood aside for him to walk out of her office, and then locked her door.

_**xxx**_

It was past four o' clock when Theresa and Justin had finished their shopping. First they'd walked the two blocks to Ammo Surplus, a firearm distributor that was run by an old and cantankerous Vietnam veteran. The man's name was Earl, he was in his late sixties, and there was a stuffed bald eagle on a shelf behind the counter.

"Isn't it illegal to have an endangered species taxidermied on your wall?" Theresa had asked, cocking her head to the side to get a better look at the large bird.

Earl had glared and laid a shot gun on the counter, saying nothing, so Theresa had shut her mouth. Justin bought two cases of bullets, and Theresa purchased some defense spray, thinking of how she'd lost the mace she'd had on the night she'd been attacked.

They then walked two more blocks to the pound (Theresa was glad she'd opted for flats instead of heels), and on the way she'd called a security company and let Justin schedule for them to install his home with alarms and surveillance cameras.

"You should get a better alarm for your car, too," she'd added, thinking of the sporty black Benz he'd drove everyday to work, and Justin had nodded and called a body shop, setting up an appointment for that as well.

They didn't talk on the way to the pound after the calls were made, and for the first time since they'd left Theresa thought of why she was doing this. It wasn't because she trusted him, in fact the very opposite was true. But it was because when she'd had her life in danger, someone had been there to help her. Justin, the arrogant asshole that he was, had helped her with Benito today, and in doing so he'd put his life on the line. Helping him, even in this small way, seemed right to Theresa. She still didn't like him, still thought he was an inconsiderate prick (she thought of his remark about "having her eventually" and cringed), but something about the way he'd acted today had her thinking that maybe he wasn't _such_ an asshole. And after the episode with Benito, it seemed unlikely to her that Justin was her stalker. She'd already mentally scratched him off her list.

When they entered the pound Theresa was met with a rundown office type area that had old and yellowing cushioned chairs lining the wall. To the right was a heavy looking red metal door, and through it she could hear shrill barking. A heavy set woman with a pile of yellow curls and bright fire engine red lipstick sat behind a large metal desk, and behind her there were eight or so tall metal filing cabinets. She was tapping her purple lacquered nails (they were an inch long and had hot pink hearts air brushed onto them) over a key board, and she was cracking her gum in rhythm with a radio that was playing on her desk.

She looked up at them after a moment. "Hi," she said, and her voice held the rasp that could only belong to a woman who smoked a pack a day. Maybe two.

The air condition was on high, and Theresa rubbed her arms and missed her jacket, annoyed that she'd gotten ink on it.

"We're here to look at dogs," Theresa said, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Well imagine that," the woman quipped. She stood heavily, and Theresa saw the name tag on the pink tee-shirt she wore said Tammy.

"This way," said Tammy, jerking her head in the direction of the red door and walking (more like waddling) through it. "We aint usually busy on weekdays. It's the weekend we get real busy, lot of people stop in to get themselves a pup. There isn't much to choose from right now though."

They followed her, and immediately upon stepping through the door the barking was amplified.

"Shaddup!!" Tammy yelled, and the barking increased.

The smell of waste and dirt and some sort of cleaning product was profound, and it made both Theresa and Justin gag momentarily. Tammy looked as though she'd gotten used to it. As Theresa looked into the cages, she was immediately depressed. Dog after dog barked, yipped, waged its tail, and panted at her. One large Chow growled at her and she walked quickly past. She wanted them all though, save for the Chow (who was she kidding? She'd take the Chow too). Justin was ahead of her, and he'd stopped to look in a cage, Tammy standing next to him, shaking her head and saying, "He's not too bright, that one."

Theresa joined them and looked in as well. It was a chocolate lab mix, medium sized with big brown eyes and a large lolling tongue. Whatever it had been breed with had to of been relatively small, because its legs were abnormally short and its body was too long, like maybe one of its parents had been a wiener dog, or a corgi. Theresa looked at it closer and saw it was slightly crossed eyed.

Justin was grinning at it, and the dog was wagging its tail and grinning back.

"Sold," Justin said, and Tammy rolled her eyes and opened the cage.

"His names Dandy," Tammy said, and Dandy rushed out of the cage and leapt into Justin arms. Justin stumbled and laughed, then knelt and set Dandy on the ground, scratching his ears. Dandy's tail thumped hard on the ground, and he tried in vain to lick Justin's face.

Tammy made a disgusted face and unhooked a leash from a peg by Dandy's cage. "You'll need to fill out adoption forms," she told Justin, taking a clipboard off a hook that was also by Dandy's cage and tucking it under her arm. Justin nodded and hooked the leash to Dandy's collar. He followed Tammy as she walked past Theresa and to the door, pulling a prancing Dandy along with him.

"You coming?" he asked Theresa over his shoulder.

Theresa shook her head and waived him out. "You go ahead, I want to look."

Justin nodded and left, grinning down at Dandy when he ran into a wall. Theresa shook her head. Justin had picked the Gomer Pyle of canines.

She walked down the isle, stopping every once and while, looking in at a dog, sticking her fingers through the cage so one could nuzzle or lick them. There was a cage of boxer puppies towards the end, and Theresa laughed at them as they leapt at each other, growling as they play fought. She made her way to the end of the isle, past an old droopy eyed basset hound, and rounded it to the next long line of cages. There were black lab puppies, a white and tan husky, a shivering grey hound, a lot of mixed breeds and mutts, but something was missing when she looked at each of them. Justin had looked at Dandy and had known he was his dog, maybe Theresa's dog wasn't here?

And then she stepped in front of the very last cage.

The name on the clipboard identified him as Thor, and Theresa immediately fell in love with him, just as quickly as Justin had fallen for Dandy. Thor didn't bark at Theresa, nor did he wag his tail like most of the other dogs did. He sat, patiently, looking up at her from inside the largest cage in the whole pound. Theresa looked again at the clip board. It said under reason for placement into pound; _overprotective of family_. Theresa wondered how over protective was a problem, and then read on.

Age; _3_

Weight; _205_

Colors; _Black and White _

Breed; _St. Bernard._

Scribbled at the bottom in a section that was designated for "Resident Veterinarian Only", was a note that said; _to be terminated by September 9__th__. _

It was September 9th.

Theresa stuck a hesitant hand through the metal cage. Thor looked at her, large brown eyes looking hopeful for just a split second, before he cautiously extended his head and licked her hand.

"Sold," Theresa whispered at him, smiling, and she looked at the hook that held Thor's leash. It was less of a leash and more of a thick metal chain that had a sturdy leather loop at one end for her hand. With leash in hand Theresa opened the gate and braced herself. Nothing happened though. Thor still sat where he was, looking at her, and Theresa smiled at him. When she approached, Thor finally wagged his long bushy tail, and Theresa was impressed that he didn't bolt for the door when she stepped fully into his cage. She clipped the chain to his collar, and still Thor sat, looking up at her, his tail wagging so hard now that when it hit Theresa's leg she though she might have a bruise.

"Ok big guy," She began, taking a step forward. "Let's see how this goes."

Thor stood as she walked and followed her out of his cage, stopping when she stopped to grab the clip board, and continuing to walk plastered to her side as she headed towards the bright red door. On four legs he stood past Theresa's waist. He didn't pull on the leash or lag behind, but matched her pace. His previous family had obviously sent him to some sort of obedient schooling, and to test that theory Theresa stopped and told Thor to sit. He did, looking up at her and opening his great big mouth to let his tongue hang out. Theresa laughed at him and told him to lie down. He did, looking up at her with happy brown eyes.

Theresa grinned and tugged at the leash, continuing to walk out of the holding area with Thor by her side. When they exited the red door and entered the office, Justin was the first to see them.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, laughing, and Tammy jerked her head to look at Theresa.

"Oh no! Not that one!" She said, jumping from her seat and coming around from behind her desk.

"What? Why?!" Theresa gripped the leash tighter.

Tammy put her hands on her hips. "Why? Look at him; he's the size of a house! You live in a house lady?"

"Well no but-"

"An apartment then. He's too big for an apartment! He drools on _everything_! And St. Bernard's are destructive. He'll chew you out of all your furniture. And he's got anxiety issues. The last family that had him said whenever they left the house he'd eat their couch. He chewed the legs right off'a their kitchen table!"

"Well he can come to work with me, I-"

"And he's over protective! Didn't you read that clip board? He attacked everyone who came near the family. Last family said he wouldn't let guests through the front door!"

Theresa huffed and pointed angrily at Tammy. "The last family was stupid! Now I'm adopting this dog and so help me you will not stand in my way. He's going to be put down if you don't let me have him, so what's it to you anyway?"

Tammy glared and grumbled, but she snatched the clip board from Theresa and returned to her desk, mumbling about how she'd "find out soon enough."

Theresa singed the adoption papers, bought Thor his license, and grabbed a pamphlet that listed all of the local Vet's in the area. "You'll be back," Tammy had called after her retreating back, and Theresa had thought, _'over my dead body.' _

When she and Justin exited the building, Dandy pulling on the leash and Thor walking as dignified as he could glued to Theresa's side, Theresa's phone began to ring.

"_What_ is _that_?" Raphael asked when Theresa answered her cell.

Theresa looked around at the rooftops, trying to sight Raphael, who was obviously watching her from above.

"Ummm… A dog?"

There was a pause on the other end. "It looks like a horse."

Theresa laughed nervously. "Yeah, well, he's a big dog."

Another pause. Then, "I'll see you at your place."

The phone went dead, and Justin looked at Theresa with raised brows.

"What was that about?" he asked, looking at the rooftops just as Theresa had done.

"Nothing… So! What made you pick Dandy here?"

Justin looked at her for a moment, not sure whether he wanted to let it go so easily, before he replied, "I dunno… he's so pathetic looking but, eh, he has character, you know?"

Theresa grinned at him and nodded. Dandy was currently lifting his leg to every passing hydrant, tree, and post box. He was full of character.

"What about you?" he asked. "What's with Beethoven?"

Theresa shrugged and rested her hand on Thor's head. He looked up at her and gave her a doggy smile, drool coming out of his mouth that looked like shoelaces.

"I don't know. He's just… he's perfect. He'll be a good watch dog, and he's smart, and I just… I dunno." She looked at Justin. "They were going to put him down… it just didn't seem fair."

Justin grinned at her. "I love dogs," he said bending over and picking up Dandy, who squirmed in frenzied effort to lick every inch of Justin's face.

It was all they spoke the rest of the walk back to the office.

_**xxx**_

Theresa had forgotten about meeting April by the time she returned home. She and Thor had walked to a locally owned Pet Supply Store and had loaded up on the essentials for the night. She'd bought him a small bag of food, a chew toy, a nylon bone, and a bottle of dog shampoo. She planned on making a return trip when she had her car, but for now she could only buy what she could carry. They stopped at a McDonalds on the trek home, and Theresa tied Thor to the bike rack and ran in to get food. When she came back out he was waiting patiently, whining when he saw her and shaking so that drool flew onto a neighboring car and splattered onto the windshield.

Theresa untied him and left quickly, laughing when Thor sniffed at the bag and barked. She stopped and fed him a burger, and he swallowed it in one bite. Theresa snorted and shook her head, "You going to get indigestion," She sang, swinging her bags and humming 'how much is that doggy in the window?'

When she walked through her front door Raphael was already there, standing in her living room, eye ridges raised at Theresa and Thor. The look didn't last long though, because Thor was suddenly at the end of his leash barking wildly at Raphael.

Raph, eyes widening, moved quickly to Theresa's kitchen table and jumped on top of it.

"Holy shit it's the dog from hell!" he exclaimed, unsheathing his sia's and holding them out in defense.

Theresa dropped her bags and held onto Thor's leash with both hands. "Thor, cut it out! And you! Put those things down!"

Raphael looked at her as if she were crazy. "Are you crazy?!" he voiced.

"He's just… protective!" Theresa panted, and her legs slid and the leash slipped a bit more from her grasp. "Shit!" she yelled, and Raphael cursed.

In a moment of quick thinking, Raphael sheathed his sia's and jumped from the table, to the kitchen counter, to the floor in front of the refrigerator. He wrenched the door open and yanked out a shrink wrapped steak. He tore it open and turned to Thor, holding the thick dripping meat out in front of him.

"Lookit', puppy. Look at the meat…" He waived it and stepped closer to Thor, who continued to bark as if he couldn't wait to rip into Raphael's throat, and damned be the steak.

"Hey!" Raphael bellowed with authority; annoyed, irritated. "I'm not gonna hurt her, so _calm_ _down_!"

The barking stopped unexpectedly, and Theresa slid to the ground when Thor suddenly stopped pulling on the leash and sat on his rump. He looked at Raphael, his head cocked to the side, and Theresa crawled forward and grabbed him by the collar, holding it as tightly as she could.

Raphael approached, nothing in his movement's wary. Instead he walked with purpose and confidence, and stuck out his fist in front of Thor's nose. The dog sniffed it, growled a little, and when Raphael said "Ah, ah!" Thor stopped growling and continued to sniff. After a moment Raphael pet him on the head and then offered him the steak. Thor took it tentatively, watching Raphael with untrusting eyes. Theresa watched, wide eyed, as Raphael grabbed the steak and yanked it out of Thor's mouth. The dog looked up at him, disappointed but not angry. Raphael held it back out to him, and Thor took it gently, tail wagging.

Raphael looked up at Theresa and glared. "He's a damn nuisance."

"That was amazing," Theresa breathed, letting Thor's collar go so that the dog could lie down and eat.

"Yeah, really great almost gettin' eaten."

Raphael washed his hands vigorously in the sink before he walked to the Fridge and took out a beer, opening it and flipping the lid onto the counter. Theresa stood frozen and he walked around her, ignoring her shock, and began picking up the fallen bags that she'd abandoned in her haste to keep a hold of Thor's leash. When he spotted the McDonald's bad he peered into it.

"This for me?"

Theresa nodded, turning and looking at him. "I got you a Big Mac."

Raphael sighed and set the rest of the bags on her kitchen table, taking his food and beer to her couch and opening the sandwich.

"You realize that in twenty minutes we'll be late meeting April and Casey," he said casually, biting into the sandwich and picking up her remote.

"Oh shit!" Theresa exclaimed, rushing down the hall. All the astonishment of seeing Raphael take control of the dog was now gone.

"I'll be ready in ten!" she called out, and slammed the bathroom door closed.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in designer blue jeans and a red blouse, hair pulled into a long pony tail, she stood once again in amazement in front of Raphael. He was still seated on the couch, craning his head to look around Theresa and get a better look at the television (football). Sprawled across the couch, head in his lap and tail thumping relentlessly, was Thor.

"It's like you're the dog whisperer," Theresa said, grinning at him.

Thor raised his head to look at her, and Raphael took the opportunity to push him off the couch and stand, turning off the TV as he did so. Thor shook and slobber went everywhere, including onto Theresa's blouse.

"Oh Damnit," she groaned, padding back to her room. She could hear Raphael laughing.

"That's what you get for buying this dog, Theresa," he called, still chuckling sardonically. He looked down at Thor. "You're lucky, you know that you big dummy?" He scratched him behind the ears and shook his head.

"Big dumb dog," he muttered.

Theresa re-entered the room, this time in a black tee-shirt that had pretty pink flowers printed on the bottom. "You think he's dumb? He's a genius! They should have named him Einstein instead of Thor. Did you _see_ Justin's dog? _That's_ a dumb dog."

Raphael grinned, "True," he replied, and then he lost his smile. "So… about Justin…"

Theresa smirked, "I was helping, ok? He was pretty brave today… and now his neck is on the line. Benito Escobar is a nut."

Raphael's face went blank, unreadable, which to Theresa indicated more than it would have if he'd let his emotions show on his sleeve. Jealousy was something Raphael was trying _very_ hard not to reveal.

"He was on your list," he said to her, speaking of the list of people she thought could be stalking her that she had handed to Raphael almost a week ago.

"Yes well, I'm still cautions. I just… I don't know… he doesn't feel like my stalker anymore."

Raphael shrugged in an uncaring sort of way, but Theresa noticed that there were still deep frown lines in the corners of his mouth. "Just… don't trust the guy too much," was all he said. Then, after a short pause, he added, "That Ethan guy was a fucking pussy."

Theresa laughed. "Yeah, he was, wasn't he?"

She remembered how frightened he'd looked at the sight of Benito Escobar and shook her head. She had been scared too, true enough, but she'd acted like she'd had more balls than he did.

"Ethan's… sheltered, I guess that's the word. He went to private schools, came from a wealthy family… he's not used to violence. He's nice though… It's probably a good thing he only does Civil and Domestic law, Criminal would be too cut-throat for him."

Raphael grunted in response. Theresa looked up at him, and there was a moment of charged silence. She hadn't realized they'd been standing so close. His eyes were searching her face, lingering on her lips.

"We should go," he finally said in a brusque voice, maneuvering around Thor and Theresa (being careful not to touch Theresa)and walking down the hall. When he reached the bathroom he called for the large dog, and Thor came running.

"Inta' the bathroom, killer," Raphael said moodily, shutting the door firmly once Thor was inside.

Theresa took a deep steadying breath and turned to look at him. She hadn't even realized that Thor obviously couldn't go into the sewers with her, and went and retrieved his dog food from her kitchen table. She emptied most of the Kibble into a large mixing bowl and filled another with water, sliding them both into the bathroom with Thor, who was looking at her with sad eyes.

"You think he'll bark?" Theresa asked, worried, avoiding his eyes. She didn't think she could take another moment where they would almost come together before he backed out of it. Those moments were killing her.

"Yeah, but we won't be gone long. April's not gonna want to visit anyway, she'll be hovering over Donny like a damn mother hen," Raphael said this with no contempt in his voice, only a sort of knowing.

Theresa bit her lip, the reality of meeting April weighing heavily on her. "Do you think she'll like me?" she asked softly, picking a piece of invisible lint off her shirt and gazing with purpose anywhere but at Raphael.

Raph looked down at her with raised eye ridges and made a face. "She'll like you," he said gruffly, "but who the hell cares?"

Theresa thought she probably looked ridiculously hopeful. "You think she'll like me?"

Raphael scowled. "Jesus, why does it matter?" he asked.

"I don't know. She's just… she's important to you guys. I don't want her hating me or anything."

He rolled his eyes. "_Hating_ you? That's crazy. April is a cool lady, she'll like you. The only person April ever hated was Casey, and she married the guy! But even if she didn't, do you think I'd- any of us, would care? What if Amy hadn't liked you, do you think we would have stopped talkin' ta you or somethin'?"

The look Theresa had when he said that must have been all Raphael needed, because he said, "You did! You really thought that? Theresa, I don't care if everyone hated you, _I'd_ still like you. And _no one_ hates you. Stop worrying about that crap, it _doesn't matter_."

Theresa finally looked at him, smiled, and before he could react (and before she could really think about what she was doing) she had lifted up to her tip toes and kissed him, her arms flinging around his neck, her lips pressing hard against his.

He stood there for a moment, shocked and wide eyed, before the realization of what was going on hit him. He was quick to react. Instead of withdrawing, instead of pushing her away, his arms, which had been hanging limply at his sides, wrapped around her waist and pulled her close to him, deepening the kiss considerably. Their mouths collided in frenzy, kissing long and hard. It was a hungry kiss, full of the need and frustration that had built up from being apart for so long. Raphael finally pulled back, out of breath.

"Is this the part," Theresa began, hips grinding against him slightly and eyes firmly squeezed shut, "where you tell me we'll continue this when we get back, and then when we do get back, you ignore me?"

Raphael made a contemptuous noise in the back of his throat. He removed one hand from Theresa's back and retrieved his cell phone from his belt. Theresa opened her eyes to watch him, her hands still wrapped vice-like around his neck.

She could hear the phone ringing, and on the other line she heard Leonardo answer.

"Hey," Raphael said, his voice slightly rasping. "Is April there yet?"

Leonardo answered yes, and Raphael said, "Tell her I can't make it… tell her Theresa had an emergency at work."

There was a pause, and Theresa grinned at him widely. Leo was talking again, but Theresa ignored it, moving her head to his neck and, remembering the reaction it had caused from him last time, began to kiss him there. Raphael, who already had one hand on his phone, removed the other from Theresa's waist and used it to support himself, pressing his palm flat on the wall and swaying.

"Yeah Leo," he said, his voice rough, "She's working…"

More talking on Leo's part, and Theresa nipped and bit on the skin at Raphael's neck, running her arms up and down his chest, digging her fingers into the grooves of his chest plates. She ran her hands lower, feeling bold, skimming the area where his thighs and the plates of his lower abdomen met.

"Yeah," Raphael answered, his fingers digging into the wall, clenching his jaw. "And Leo… turn off the cameras in Theresa's apartment… please." The last was added as an afterthought, his brain was quickly becoming foggy and incoherent.

Raphael snapped the phone shut, not letting Leo answer, and threw it to the ground. His hands were wrapped around her once more, and his head tilted back as Theresa began sucking on the place where his shoulder blade and neck joined.

"Fuck," he breathed, his fingers gripping her lower back tightly. Theresa removed her lips and kissed up his neck, to his face and then, when he lowered his head back down, his lips.

They kissed hard again, tongues weaving together with no hesitancy. His hands were everywhere on her, over she shoulders to her breasts to her hips to her buttocks, squeezing and momentarily lifting her off her feet. Theresa gasped against his mouth and clawed at his biceps, gripping his arm tightly as wave after wave of longing quavered through her body. Raphael growled deep in his throat and pulled back, sucking in a ragged breath. "Wait," he said, gulping air as though he'd been under water for longer than he should have.

Theresa felt her heart sink like and anchor at his word and shook her head.

"Please no," she pleaded, standing on her tip toes and raining feathery kissed over his face, "No more waiting, please."

Raphael gripped her tighter, hands sliding up to her lower back, and hid his face in her neck, breathing in her perfume. It was vanilla.

"I didn't mean it like that," he mumbled, running his hands up and down her back, rocking slightly backing and forth in a calming manner. "I just meant wait… I mean… ugh." He pulled back from her, his hands gripping her hips and holding her safely back. He was breathing heavily.

"I just mean… not like this… I don't want to…" he stopped talking, infuriated with himself because the words weren't coming out right.

Theresa cocked her head at him, clearly perplexed.

Raphael made a frustrated noise that came from deep in his chest. "I'll show you what I mean," he said, and instead of pulling her into another heated kiss, he took a deep steadying breath and drew her to him slowly, a hand reaching up and cupping her cheek in his palm. He looked at her then, into her eyes, telling her things that he couldn't vocalize properly; things that made him feel awkward when he tried to say them out loud.

Theresa felt a flutter that started in her stomach and spread out to her chest and fingers and toes. It was a sudden nervousness, and sudden anticipation. Raphael brought his head down slowly, and Theresa felt her eyes slide shut of their own accord. His lips were light, tentative, probing, and Theresa couldn't immediately kiss back as a wave of warmth rushed through her body. The kiss enabled her to think properly, enabled her to even move. He pulled his head back, his breathing somehow harsher, pulling air into his lungs as if he'd been completely deprived of it.

"Theresa," he probed, one hand still gripping her hip, the other sliding from her cheek to entangle into her hair.

Theresa's eyes stayed closed. "Raph," she answered, her voice so light that he wouldn't have been able to hear it if he hadn't been standing so close.

He searched her face, drinking it in, noticing the way her cheeks had flushed and how her lips were swollen and slightly parted. He let his eyes close and lowered his head again, letting himself become lost in her lips, letting it consume him. This time Theresa kissed him back, tentative at first, then matching his passion. There was something less frenzied in this kiss, however, something that was tender and meaningful.

Raphael stepped back, applying pressure to the back of Theresa's head so that she followed without breaking the kiss. When they did part it was only to catch a small gasp of air before continuing on. Once they had made their way into Theresa's room they did not immediately fall to the bed. Instead they stood there in her room, darkened when Raphael flipped off the switch but light because of her window, pouring the last few hours of the setting sun into that small private space.

Raphael pulled back, nipping her bottom lip as he did so, his eyes staying shut for a moment before they flew open to look at her. Her eyes slid open at the same moment to look at him. Her heart raced at the obvious need that was written in his face, and she felt her body tingle with expectation.

"You won't leave… will you?" she asked, a still functioning part of her brain worrying that he would abandon her as he'd done last time.

Raphael shook his head, pulled her tightly to him. He thought to himself, _'Never again, not in a million years. You're mine._' But all he could say was a strained, "No."

He reached to his waist and pulled the buckle of his belt, letting it, along with his sia's, fall to the ground with a resounding _thump_. Theresa's breath caught as he did so, and her eyes darkened with lust. He kissed her again, harder, before he let his lips trail down her cheek bone, her neck. His hands began their wandering once more, grasping her hips, running up and down the sides of her rib cage, playing with the hem of her shirt.

She squirmed against him, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders, chills of desire racing up and down her spine.

"I want you," she murmured, hooking a leg around his calf and arching against him, needing to be so much closer.

Raphael made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat and let his hands slip under the shirt, reveling in the feel of her smooth bare skin, which jumped at the feel of his cool hands. Up, past her flat abdomen and navel, until he felt the edge of her bra. Theresa sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his thumb grazing back and forth under the wire of restricting garment, biting her lip and pressing herself to him. His lips made their way back up her neck and caught her in a teasing kiss, biting lightly at her bottom lip, tongue briefly tasting her before pulling away.

Both of his large hands finally cupped her breasts over the material of her bra, fingers slipping under the straps and tugging at them. Raphael grinned when she moaned in frustration and grinded her hips hard against his plastron.

"I want you," she repeated, nails digging harshly into his shoulder blades, probably breaking skin. Then she said, "I _need_ you."

The words made his heart pound a hundred times faster than it had been before, made his toes curl deep into the carpet. Desire shook through his body and made the erection he already had slam painfully inside of his shell. It took him a moment to reign himself in, to calm down enough that he didn't loose control and take her right there. He did yank her shirt off her though, throwing it haphazardly, not caring where it landed. He slid the straps of her bra down, loving the way her skin jumped as he did so. His lips latched to her neck, then down to her shoulder.

Theresa stepped out of the slip on tennis shoes she'd adorned earlier and kicked them across the room and out of the way. She let her hands run down his arms to his elbows, where she yanked off the pads that were there and let them fall to the ground. She stepped backwards, towards the bed, and Raphael sensed her intent to be there and followed until they fell onto the soft mattress. She maneuvered her body up the bed until her head was on one of her pillows, and Raphael followed her, parting her legs, calloused palms gripping her knees, and coming to rest between them, over top of her.

Theresa sighed and pulled him to her, kissing him, running her hands up and down his chest, her fingers probing the grooves of his plastron and the edges of it, where the skin would begin on his shoulders. He unlatched their lips and kissed down her jaw line, to her neck, to her shoulders. Once he reached her breasts, restricted by her bra, he began kissing over the silky black material. Theresa arched and helped him unclasp it. As soon as it was loose he pulled it away form her, tossing it across the room. One large hand came finally to grasp her bare breast, his mouth latching onto the other. Theresa gasped and bit her lip, head tilting back in pleasure.

Raphael looked up at her and grinned, reaching up a hand to caress her cheek. Then he turned his attention back to her body, fingers grazing and softly pinching her hardened nipples. He kissed down the valley of her breasts, down her flat abdomen, his tongue dipping into her navel. He could hear her panting when he reached the top of her jeans, could see how her hands were grasping the comforter below them. He unbuttoned the jeans expertly, loving the way she held her breath as he slid down her zipper, loving the way the breath was exhaled as he slid them down over her hips and past her knees. Once they were off they joined the rest of the clothing on the floor, along with his weapons and pads, the only garment left on her being the silken black underwear that matched her bra, which was now teetering precariously on a lamp shade.

He raised himself to his knees, still betweens her legs, and skillfully slipped off his knee pads, tossing them in the general direction of where his belt and sia's were lying. He let his hands run up and down her claves and the tops of her feet, watching her closely as she writhed, her eyes closed tight.

"Look at me," he whispered, and Theresa's eyes slid open.

Raphael took a steadying breath. "I want you to know," he began, his heart beating fast, "That I always meant to come back to you that night. And then everything happened and… and I just couldn't pick up where we'd left off. I didn't know how… But I always meant ta' come back."

Theresa nodded. "You're here now," she said breathlessly.

Raphael gave her a teasing half smile that was somehow cocky and sweet all at once. He lowered his head; let his lips touch her knee, and Theresa's eyes closed once more. He kissed up her thigh, spreading her legs wider as he did so. When he reached her center, kissing over the material and letting his hands slide up her legs to grasp the small piece of fabric at each side of her hips, Theresa gasped and arched towards his mouth.

"Please," she said, her breath hitching, and Raphael groaned softly and slid the black panties down her hips. He sat up to quickly pull them off of her, and her last garment of clothing went to the floor. He let his hand touch her first, not entering her, but feeling her heat, delighting in her wetness. Then he lowered his head, watching her, letting his lips touch her most intimate of places.

"God!" She yelped, bending her knees, lifting to her elbows and letting her eyes fly open wide.

He grinned up at her and let his tongue caress her, tasting her, finding a rhythm as her legs began to shake. She made small noises, her hips bucking, before she moved back and sat up on her knees, pulling away from him.

"What are you doing?" Raphael asked, grabbing her ankle and pulling her back down on the bed, maneuvering her until she was laying on her back once more, his body over top of her. He kissed her jaw line to her ear, nipping at the lobe. "Why did you stop me?" he whispered to her, hands pushing her hair back out of her face. One of his elbows propped himself up over her, and the other trailed down her arm until he was holding her hand. He watched her closely, kissing her chin, her nose, her lips.

Theresa arched against him and shook her head. Her eyes were firmly shut. "I don't know," she replied, breathing heavily. "Too much," she mumbled. "It was too much, I couldn't handle it."

Raphael laughed softly. "Its ok, calm down."

"I want you so much it hurts," Theresa moaned, squeezing his hand tightly.

The erection that was pushing hard against the inside of Raphael's shell grew larger, harder, and it was to the point where it was much too painful to keep it inside of him. He relaxed for a moment, letting it drop out and between his legs, before he let go of Theresa's hand and positioned himself above her.

"Hey," he rasped, one hand grabbing her hip and the other going to the back of her head, lifting it gently. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes and met his. He looked lustful and serious all at once.

"Are you sure it's me you want?" he asked, and Theresa felt his erection brush against her thigh.

She nodded and reached up to pull off his mask, letting the red bandana slid off his face and next to her pillow. "More than anything," she replied.

He nodded back at her before letting his hips guide the way to her. He let his hand move from her hip to grasp his penis, finding her entrance, pushing into her slowly. She cried out and groaned all at once, her eyes never leaving his. He kissed her tenderly as he let go of himself and entered her fully, not moving once her was inside her. Her breath was coming in small gasps now, her cheeks flushed red.

"God. Please…" She moved against him, rotating her hips, and Raphael pushed himself as deeply into her as he could, causing her to whimper. Her nails sunk deeply into his shoulders, clinging to him, and he let his head drop to her ear.

"That's me… inside of you," he panted, pulling out before sliding slowly back into her, filling her.

"Its you," she moaned, lifting her hips to meet his next thrust, urging him to go faster.

He quickly found a rhythm, moving steadily in and out of her, kissing her between gasps of pleasure.

"Faster," she pleaded, and he obliged her, feeling her walls tighten around him and knowing she was already so very close. He felt the pressure building up inside of him and clenched his jaw, refusing to find his own release until she'd found her own. He moved faster, grunting, watching as her eyes slid closed and her head tilted back.

"Please," she breathed, holding tightly onto his biceps and biting down on her lip. "_Please_."

Her words made his head spin. "Tell me," he rasped, feeling her shake beneath him, feeling himself begin to tremble as well.

He grinded hard into her, lifting her knee and keeping his pace, even deeper inside of her now. Her whole body quaked beneath him and her breathing was sharp and labored. The noises she was making, the incoherent words and the moans, combined with the sound of the headboard banging against her wall, sent him nearly over the edge.

She was suddenly sucking in a deep breath, hands coiling into the sheets and her walls closing vice like around his member. "I'm cumming," she gasped, and he realized all at once that she was sobbing. He moved faster, his own orgasm building until it burst from him in a wave of pleasure, spilling himself deep inside of her and groaning.

"God," he whispered, his whole body quivering and on fire with bliss, collapsing onto his side and pulling her with him. She was still crying, burying her head into his shoulder as he stroked her back and made shushing noises.

"Its ok," he told her, kissing the top of her head. They were both still panting, and Raphael realized he'd broken into a sweat. "Jesus," he mumbled, holding her even tighter to him.

She sniffed and nodded. "So good," she said, her voice muffled in his shoulder but still full of emotion.

They lay there for a full minute, silent except for the occasional sniff from Theresa, catching their breath, until Theresa looked up at him tentatively. Her eyes were red. "I didn't scare you when I started crying, did I?" she asked self consciously.

Raphael chuckled. "No," he said, leaning his head down and kissing her softly. "Its just means I did it right."

Theresa smiled at him, and Raphael reached a hand to her face to wipe her eyes. Her legs were still shaking and he could feel them shudder against him. He felt all a once lethargic, her face becoming hazy as his eyes began to slide shut.

"Go to sleep babe," he mumbled.

Theresa nodded and pressed closer to him, her heart finally slowing, the shaking in her body subsiding. Sleep began to weigh heavily on her, exhaustion taking its toll. She felt completely relaxed, her body tingling in the aftermath of Raphael's lovemaking.

And just as she began to loose herself in those first moments of real slumber, she heard Raphael say drowsily; "_Love you_."

Her mind grasped onto it and she smiled, clinging tightly to him.

"Love you, too," she whispered. Then she fell into dreamless sleep.

_**xxx**_

_**Author's Note:**_

This chapter, without this authors note, is 11,580 words. Wow.

Let's just say that I knew where this chapter needed to stop, and there was no way I was ending it until Theresa and Raphael had finally done the deed. Actually, I wasn't planning on them getting together until at least two more chapters, but then my fingers were typing away, letting the plot flow to me, and all of the sudden Theresa was kissing Raph and Raph was calling Leo and then there was no way they weren't going to _finally_ make love. The moment was right, I think.

A couple of things to explain, the main one being Theresa's crying when she has an orgasm. Guess what? It's NORMAL! _Especially_ with all the sexual frustration that's been building up between them. There is no doubt in my mind that she would begin crying when she was finally able to have her release. Trust me, that is a completely probable reaction.

The other thing I wanted to mention was that I actually gave myself chills when I read "That's me… inside of you." I'm hoping that it had the same effect on you, but I worried I was sending the wrong message. He wasn't _actually_ telling her (like she needed to know) that he was inside of her. It was more of a, "Do you feel the way I feel right now? With us together, so entirely intimate, like this? Do you realize what we're doing? Feel me inside of you, we're together." That was too wordy though, lol.

Also, this sex stuff is pretty fun to write. I mean, its embarrassing as hell to post, but fun… in a frustrating kind of way. I don't, however, plan on making the whole story filled with sex scenes in it. That's definitely not the way I want to go with this, and I think that when authors get too sidetracked by the sexual aspect of the story they are telling, it takes away from it. It makes it only about getting a thrill and diminishes the enjoyment a reader gets. The build up, the intrigue, the excitement. I think that if Raphael and Theresa continued every chapter with explicit details of their love making, it would make the story less interesting, take away from it some how. That's not to say that there won't be detail, but maybe not so graphic…

Anyway, enough babbling. This chapter is long enough to be two- maybe three chapters. But I hope you all enjoyed it. It took me awhile with the sex scene; it had to be just right. ;)

Lola, hope you liked it! See, I didn't tease! XD

Go review, but please no flames!!!


	16. Chapter Sixteen, Denial

**Author's Note:** Well, I think its time we do some recapping! As far as the stalker goes, theses were the names on Theresa's list, in case you forgot. Dan Colden (Father), Shelly Colden (Mother), Thomas "Tommy" Colden (Brother), Quillan Short (Best Friend), Shar Hart (Friend), Romeo Hart (Friend/Client), Demetrius Hart (Client), Corbin Castillo (Friend/Client), Emanuel Vasquez (Client/Friend), Lawrence Shade (Co-Worker), Ethan Shempski (Co-Worker), Justin Hunt (Co-Worker).

Some of theses people you haven't met yet, like Quillan or Shar (who is Romeo's wife), or Theresa's parents. There are so many things that I still need to get out in these chapters though, and I haven't had the time to introduce them in the story yet. Before it ends though, they should make an appearance.

Also, there are some story plots we need to rehash so that you remember them later!! The stalker has, so far, attacked Theresa in the alley between her apartment, broken in through her window and listened to her phone conversation while she called Raphael for help (hence he knows Raphael and Michelangelo's names), and he's been able to leave the scene each time fairly quick. Raphael noticed that there are cigarette butts outside of Theresa's window on the fire escape, which indicate that the stalker sits and watches her for long periods of time. He has tapped a Polaroid of Theresa sleeping to her bedroom window, which Donatello found and presented to Raphael. Theresa, however, doesn't know about the picture or the fact that the stalker replaced her window (the one leading to her bedroom that he smashed) without locks.

There, all the instances in which the stalker has terrorized Theresa! Hey, you don't think I reminded you for nothing, do you? ;)

_**Chapter Sixteen: Denial **_

_**xxx**_

It was eerily quiet as Raphael walked through the forest, unnoticing of anything but the fact that something, though he had no idea what, was missing. Perhaps it was the lack of wildlife in that thick foliage; there were no sounds of crickets or of scurrying animals. There was no twitter of birds that almost always filled forests like this one. And, on top of that, there was certainly no rush of wind or breeze though the branches of the trees. There was a red and gold hue cast about him from the leaves on the plants and trees, indicating a season well in its term of fall, and periodically a dying leaf would descend to the ground. But to Raphael's keen ears there was still no sound. It was a dying Forest, and it made a panic raise up into Raphael's heart. Whatever he was searching for (and certainly he was searching), it was marked with bereavement and demise.

He walked on, and though there was a terrible gripping of alarm and suspicion that clawed at him like a wounded animal, he could not force his legs to travel faster. He only trudged on, aware that every step he took was a step closer to something ghastly.

A fog began to move in, swirling around him and making it hard to see where he was going. Still he continued forward, ignoring the lack of sight and using instinct to guide him on his way. He knew somehow that the unmarked path he was on was leading him in the right direction. For how, his brain wondered, could you get lost in your own dream? He clung to the brief reality that this was without a doubt a dream, before the notion slipped through his fingers like water or silk. And then suddenly there was a light ahead of him where there had not been light only a moment before. He walked towards it, praying that the light didn't disappear, praying that whatever it was ahead of him wasn't anything he was dreading, wasn't anything that would impede on his sanity.

He came closer to the light, and then quite suddenly he entered a clearing. All trees that surrounded the perfect circle were dead and bare of leaves, twisting and stretching towards the grey and bleak sky in an ugly manner. The earthen floor held no grass or plant life, only brown dirt that reminded Raphael of sand. The light, he saw, came from a television that was sitting on a wheeled cart, much like you would find in any child's classroom. The TV, which he stood facing, showed only static and nothing more, and somehow it looked as though it belonged here in this dead forest.

And then Jade appeared next to the TV, naked and crying, blinked into existence as only dreams can do. Her arms were reaching for him in a pleading manner. She looked just like he remembered her when she'd been alive, except she wasn't smiling or laughing as he had always seen her doing. Instead her face was red and her body was shaking in fear. There was a wild, frightened look in her eyes. Still there was no sound, though Raphael knew she was screaming. He could read her lips as she begged him for help. The TV flashed the word MUTE across its static screen in an ugly green color, a bright green that reminded him of acid. He tried to move towards her, tried to lift his hand to take her own, but his legs were stiff and his body would not listen to the commands his brain was issuing. All he could do was face her and watch in horror as from behind Jade, out of the forest and the fog, came a large grey wolf. It was massive, creeping towards her, padding from behind in a silent and stalking manner. Raphael tried to open his mouth to warn her, but the thought that Jade was already dead entered his mind, and he knew he couldn't save her.

The wolf attacked viciously, and on the TV screen the image of Parker McCoy flashed on and off, the same picture Raphael remembered the news using when they ran the story of his death. The same night Jade had died. The dog was ripping into Jade, tearing into her chest, its jaw locking onto her face and shaking it brutally. Raphael could feel his insides turn to bile, could feel the sweat break out on his forehead, and still all he could carry out was to watch and do nothing.

Then the wolf suddenly let Jade go, backing away and watching her from several paces. Jade's body twitched and convulsed there in the dirt that was mixing steadily with her blood. Her hands, missing fingers Raphael saw, dug into the ground and began to help her rise up. Then, slowly, painfully, she stood, stumbling on her way from the ground to her feet. Blood ran like a river from her face to her toes, pooling at her feet. She looked at Raphael. Her face was disfigured and unrecognizable and Raphael flinched at the deep wounds across her abdomen and breasts. From what he could make out of her face, as deformed as it now was, he could see she was glaring at him in an accusing manner. Glaring at him in a way that left no doubt in his mind of whom she blamed for her death. Jade's face became more and more indistinguishable as she stood before him, twisting like the roots on one of the trees in the forest, transforming into a pale and vacant hunk of flesh that looked like clay. No longer was Jade standing in front of him, instead her entire body continued to morph and disfigure before it finally twisted into a face that Raphael realized he'd expected to see in this forest. It was a face he'd been dreading to see here, knowing that her presence meant her death.

It was Theresa that stood before him now, unmarked by the wolf, wearing her pink terry robe and looking at him in fear.

'_Help me,'_ she mouthed, and Raphael still could not hear her- although he knew what she said. He tried to move, tried to break away from the immobility that had overtaken him with every fiber in his body, but he could not. The wolf, its eyes eager and predatory, attacked cruelly. It knocked Theresa to the ground, and Raphael knew he was screaming, knew he was howling in rage. Yet he was frozen in place, watching as the dog ripped her apart.

It felt like hours that he stood there, watching as Theresa died by the teeth and claws of the monster attacking her, until finally she stopped moving and lay dead at Raphael's feet. The dog sniffed her in disdain, then looked up at Raphael and grinned maliciously. Then the animal turned and trotted away into the forest, no doubt to prowl on more unsuspecting victims.

The TV flashed random faces on its screen then. Corbin, Tommy, Justin, Benito. Raphael knew that any of these faces could be the wolf that had just devoured Theresa, and it enraged him. He willed her to move, willed himself to awaken (for this had to be a dream). He could feel his mouth moving, feel his lungs take in air as he screamed, but still there was nothing but the ringing that only true silence brings. Then, as if he'd been snapped into existence, Michelangelo was standing in front of Raphael, standing over Theresa. He looked at his older brother in anger.

"You let them die," he told Raphael, and Raphael was surprised to actually be able to hear his brother's angry voice.

"They were already dead," Raphael answered in alarm. "There was nothing I could do." He could feel the panic that was racing through him at the thought of Theresa truly being dead.

Michelangelo shook his head. "You let them die. You could have saved her if you'd tried hard enough, but you didn't."

Raphael didn't know what to say to this, because somehow he knew it was true. Michelangelo sucked in a breath and spit on him, looking revolted, before he turned and headed into the forest.

"Where are you going?" Raphael called out, wiping the saliva from his cheek.

"To find Parker McCoy. I need to kill him again."

Raphael shook his head vigorously. "But it's not Parker, Mike!"

But Michelangelo kept walking, disappearing into the darkness that had abruptly fallen over the forest. It was at that time that howling emitted from the trees that surrounded Raphael, loud and echoing. It kept continuing, growing louder, turning into barking and snarling, and finally Raphael realized that the howling was coming from inside his own chest, reverberating through his body and his ears. He'd turned into the wolf, and he was now running after his brother. He could feel the wind rushing past his furred face, feel the dirt move and shift under the pads of his paws. He could smell the fear that was ahead of him, and he realized with a sort of animalistic hunger that it was Mikey.

The last though he had before he woke up was that he didn't want to kill Michelangelo too. He didn't want to kill his brother.

_**xxx**_

Raphael sat stock straight in the bed, confused by his surroundings, not immediately sure where he was. His breathing was erratic and small pinpoints of sweat had spread on his forehead. The room was dark and he felt disoriented for almost a full minute before he realized that he was in Theresa's bed, her naked body stretched out next to him. Once he came to that understanding he also felt the relief that he'd only been dreaming, and that Theresa was indeed alive and well. The dream he'd had, slipping away from his memory by the second, had been so realistic that he swore he could have brought a leaf from the forest out of the dream with him. But the more he thought about the nightmare, the less he remembered. Something about Jade and Theresa's death, and a wolf as well, but other than that it was fading, and soon he would remember only flashes of it.

He sighed, his hand raising to his chest and gripping it, feeling his heart beating like a snare drum. It took him a moment of deep breathing to realize that there really was barking, and that it wasn't an echo of memory from his nightmare.

"What the hell…" he trailed off, remembering Thor. The large St. Bernard was still locked in Theresa's bathroom. Raphael looked at the digital clock that sat on an end table next to him and saw that it read 10pm. They had slept for just over four hours, and he was sure that Thor was ready to relive himself. He rubbed his face vigorously to ward of the urge to just lie back down and sleep for a few more hours. Instead he laid a hand on Theresa's shoulder and shook it gently.

"Hey," he said softly, eye ridges knit. "How can you sleep through that barking?"

Theresa groaned and lay on her stomach, burying her head in her pillow.

"Damn. Is it time for work?" Her voice was muffled by the pillow, and Raphael laughed and lay on his side next to her.

"It will be Saturday in a couple hours," he said, running his hands up and down her back. "But for now it's only 10 o'clock. Thor is barking, I think he needs a walk… You know… cuz dogs need walks. He can't use the toilet like you or me, the world is his urinal."

Theresa raised her head and peered at him sleepily.

"You talk a lot. …I can't see you, it's dark," she rasped, and Raphael laughed and reached over to the lamp on his side of the bed, flicking it on.

Theresa yelped in surprise and hid her face in the pillow once more. "I didn't mean turn on the light," she exclaimed, reaching out a blind hand and swatting at his chest.

Raphael laughed, letting his own eyes become adjusted to the sudden brightness in the room.

"Ah, yeah. Bad idea," he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, amused when she squinted from the light. He let his own hand fall over her eyes. "There, no more light," he said.

She molded her body to his own and yawned. "You're not helping," she said sleepily.

He felt a rush in his blood at the feel of her naked body and removed his hand from over her eyes. Thor was still barking.

"Hey," he began. "You gotta wake up. I don't have a disguise or I'd walk him for you. Otherwise he'll keep barking and your neighbors will complain."

Theresa groaned and nodded against his chest. She sat up, stretching her arms up high and yawning again.

"I just need a yard," Theresa said, scooting out of bed. She stretched again, and Raphael enjoyed the view. From the corner of her eyes she saw him staring and grinned sleepily. "None of that until Thor gets walked," she said, shaking a finger at him in mock discipline. Raphael made an innocent face, clearly saying; _None of what? I wasn't doing anything. _

Theresa shook her head in disbelief. She retrieved her bra from the shade of her own bedside lamp and began dressing, Raphael watching with the smallest of grins the whole time. When she was done, wearing grey sweats and an oversized black tee shirt, she stood before the bed and smiled at him.

"Ready?" she asked, finding the tennis shoes she had kicked off earlier and slipping them on.

"You like ta torture me, don't you," he said, not forming it as a question. Theresa shrugged and began pulling her hair back, throwing it into a messy bun.

"I need a shower when I get back," she said, making a face.

"You and me both," Raphael agreed, exiting the bed and going to where his belt lay. He buckled it, searched for his bandana until he found it under Theresa's pillow, and then slipped on his knee and elbow pads.

"Ready," he told her, tying the bandanna at the back of his head and motioning her to the door. Theresa left the room, Raphael following her shuffling feet. She opened the bathroom door and Thor barreled out of it, bounding to the front door and prancing in front of it. He looked at Theresa and barked.

"Oh hold on," she said, walking to the kitchen table and retrieving his leash/chain from it.

"You'll be close by?" she asked Raphael, looking at him carefully as she clipped the leash to Thor's collar.

Raphael gave her a look and said, "Where else would I be?"

Theresa grinned and grabbed her purse, remembering that she'd bought a new can of pepper spray at the ammo surplus store. She walked out the front door, Thor pulling the leash just slightly in his rush to be outside. Raphael made sure the door was locked behind her before he went back to her bedroom and left out of her window.

It was just slightly chilly, reminding him that summer was almost over, fall was on its way, and then winter would be upon him. He hated winter, dreaded its coming every passing year. And it wasn't just because that was when Mia had ended it with him, but because it was so damn depressing. Winter meant the death of things, meant the cold and the snow that would inevitably turn into brown slush. He took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts away, leaping from Theresa's fire escape to the roof of the pawn shop.

He sighted her on the sidewalk, Thor pressed obediently to her side as they walked, and Raphael let his eyes scour her surroundings. There weren't many other people out, it was still early for a Friday night and most were still patroning in the nearby bars or clubs. There were more people milling about than usual though, which gave Raphael some discontent. More people just meant more distractions. He focused on Theresa, jumping to the next roof from the pawn shops and honing in on her, watching her and anyone that came near her with growing discomfort.

At the next roof Raphael made his way down the side of the building and held back a few paces. He kept to the shadows of the buildings, making sure that no one could catch a glimpse of even his silhouette. It bothered him greatly that no one was following her. It had been over two weeks since he'd saved her, and a week since the photograph that had been taped to her window. Between the stalker breaking into her apartment and listening to her phone calls, it seemed that there should be more violence, more acts of insanity that should follow. It was clear to Raphael that this man was bold, and yet there was nothing, and it made Raphael feel as though it was only the calm before the storm. It was just a matter of time, he felt, before the stalker made another attack. Something told him, instinct that had been sharpened from years of ninja training, that the next act of violence form the stalker would be the last, and Raphael mentally prepared himself to be ready for it.

Leonardo and Donatello had both told him they thought a suspicious figure had been lurking about, but compared to earlier instances this was nothing. And it wasn't as though Raphael could accost some stranger for looking suspicious, even if it ended up being someone Theresa knew. Besides, no one was really paying much attention to the video cameras anymore, not since Mikey had left and Donny had been hurt. It would probably be possible for Donny to still keep vigilance on the cameras if Amy didn't keep him so medicated for pain. Michelangelo had broken three of his brother's ribs and had left him with a slight concussion. His face looked like one big black and purple bruise. Even if someone was lurking, Raphael wouldn't know it. He was inside of the apartment, keeping Theresa company.

He almost snorted at that thought. _Company._ More like he was keeping himself deliriously sedated and distracted with sex and the allure of normalcy. Something inside of him screamed for him to shut up. The voice told him that sex had only happened once (so far), and that it was in no way counter productive to catching the stalker. And as for the "allure of normalcy," the voice screamed at him that why, _why_ couldn't he have some semblance of a normal life? Why couldn't he take what he could from this world and live happily with it. Was that so wrong? Was it so much to ask that he lived a life that wasn't always on the brink of death?

The voice that was yelling at him was quickly drowned out by the voice Raphael had acquired over many years of heart ache and frustration. It was a harder, more cynical voice, a voice that told him that no matter how much he wished for certain things, one thing still remained the same. He was a turtle. There was nothing normal about that, and trying to pretend to have a normal life was just setting himself up for disappointment. Hadn't he already tried to live happily with Mia? Hadn't he already tried to live a semi-normal life? But it hadn't worked out. Instead he'd been left looking into a warm apartment on a cold winter night, a week before Christmas, watching stunned as Mia left in the arms of another man.

And where exactly had the quest for normalcy gotten any of his brothers? Michelangelo was reaching new levels of madness, going absolutely senseless over the death of Jaden, a woman who'd broken the relationship off three months before her death. Donatello was hurting in a quiet way, his own heart ripped apart from the death of Jade. But if she'd lived, could they have been happy? Normal? The cynical voice yelled that no, no they wouldn't have made it. And Leonardo? Raphael cringed inwardly. Leonardo had been betrayed by the enemy. He'd fallen in love with Karai, the daughter of The Shredder, and in the end she had made a fool of him.

Ahead of him Theresa had stopped walking, and Thor was taking care of business. Raphael pushed his thoughts away and gathered his surrounding. They were close now to Theresa's law firm; he could see it a block away. And in the distance he saw a light on in the building, glowing like a beacon. Raphael's eyes narrowed. He wasn't as smart as Donny or as quick as Mikey or as strategical as Leo, but he believed he had a good amount of all those qualities, and enough bravery and instinct to make up for his lack in anything else. And his instinct told him that the light in the law firm was coming from Theresa's office. He approached her, stealthily, and Theresa jumped when he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said. "I'm going to the roof for a second, stay right where you are. Ok?"

Theresa nodded, holding her chest. Thor wagged his tail at Raphael, and the turtle pat his head before disappearing once more into the shadows and making his way up the side of the building. When he reached the roof he looked down at Theresa, who was absentmindedly stroking Thor's head and looking at the spot where Raphael had just disappeared from.

Raphael retrieved his cell phone from his belt and hit the speed dial for Leo. His brother answered on the second ring.

"Can I turn the cameras back on or are you two still sucking face?" His brother asked, his voice clearly full of boredom.

"We ain't at the apartment. She had to walk Thor and we're about a block from her law firm. Do me a favor and meet me here. I wanna go check something out and I don't want her by herself."

There was a pause before Leo said, "Thor? Who the hell is Thor?"

"Damnit Leo it's a dog. Will you get your ass over here?"

Leo sighed and the phone went dead. Raphael took this to mean that he was on his way, so he stayed on the roof and waited, watching Theresa as she looked at the pile of doggy mess that Thor had left on the sidewalk. From where Raphael stood he thought she was probably glaring at it. He waited a few minutes before he opened his phone again and dialed her number. After a minute of digging through her purse she was able to find her cell and answer.

"State law says you gotta clean that mess up," he told her, chuckling when she looked up and narrowed her eyes at where she thought he might be.

"Hey, I don't have a plastic bag or I would."

Raphael made a voice of disbelief. "Sure," he said.

"I would! … Ok, so I wouldn't. Do you see this? It's like something from that first Jurassic Park movie. Remember? When that lady had to reach into the big pile of crap? That what it looks like! I don't need a bag I need a shovel!"

Raphael though her voice sounded slightly hysterical. "Calm down. Just stand there and act like your waiting for him to finish up, and when its time walk away act like you don't even see it. No ones gonna say anything to you."

He saw Theresa nod.

"...Leo is on his way," he told her, and Theresa's head jerked up and looked at the roof.

"What?" she asked, and Raphael could tell that she was immediately suspicious.

"He's gonna walk home with you and stay there for awhile. I'm gonna go do some snooping and I don't want ya on your own."

Theresa bit her lip harshly. "… Are you coming back?" she questioned.

Raphael felt a ridiculous clutching at his heart, and it was at that moment that he recalled telling her that he loved her. He had forgotten the mumbled words he'd told her in the aftermath of their love making, and remembering them now also registered the fact that she had answered him with the same words. A kind of horror set in once he realized that he hadn't been lying, and that neither had she.

"I won't be gone long," he finally said, working through the sheet of terror that had draped itself over him.

'_I told her I loved her. Why the hell did I say that? Fuck!'_ his thoughts went on like that for what seemed like minutes, when in reality it was only just a few moments.

"Raph," Theresa began softly, "please don't over think all this. Just… just let what happens happen. I'm not… I'm not that other girl. I'm not going to hurt you."

Raphael momentarily lost his breath. It was as if someone had hit him in the stomach with a ton of bricks, or a sledge hammer.

'_Mikey,'_ he thought.

"Michelangelo told you about that?" he asked, wincing when he heard the roughness of his voice.

"… Not all of it. He just said someone hurt you. …Raph I'm not her, I'm not going to do whatever it is that she did. Just please, stop fighting this. I don't care about anything that comes with being with you, as long as I'm with you."

Raphael thought vaguely that it was like she was reading his thoughts. In his peripheral vision he saw movement, and an instant later Leonardo was standing next to him, blue bandanna snapping in the wind.

"Leo's here. You should start walking home," Raphael said, and before she could answer he shut the phone.

He saw Theresa look down at her own cell in frustration and what looked like regret. She looked up at the roof, biting her lip and appearing so damn vulnerable that Raphael had to squash the urge to leap down and pull her into his arms.

"Lovers quarrel?" Leonardo asked, and Raphael answered with a glare and a sneer.

Leonardo sighed. "Ah, no. Just you being yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Raphael snapped. Below them Theresa was looking around covertly and beginning to walk back down the street, towards her apartment.

"It means you're an ass. It means that you've got a chance to have something good, and instead you'll fuck it up, like always."

"So what, I fuck everything up?" Raphael questioned, anger instantly spilling into every pore of his body. He was ready for a fight, ready to release any kind of frustration and doubt he was having onto his oldest brother.

Leonardo frowned deeply. "Just because Mia-"

"Oh! And I fucked that up too? I _asked_ to be dumped?"

Leo growled angrily. "Jesus Christ Raph, will you stop flying off the handle every time someone mentions her name? Everyone knew she was gonna do it. She was a flake and all of us knew it was just a matter of time before she moved on. Even Mikey knew it, and Mikey isn't exactly the most perceptive of us all. When are you going to get over the fact that she left you and _move_ _on_?"

"Fuck you Leo. I don't see you moving on after Karai," Raphael said, and Leo flinched.

Raphael looked at him and gave a feral grin, seeing his way to win this argument. "Can't even hear her _name_ Leo? How's going out and fucking some random bitch doing for _that_ memory? Making it disappear? Is it taking the sting away from betrayal? Cause every one knew it was gonna happen Leo. We all knew it was just a matter of time before she moved on."

Raphael threw the words Leo had spoken back in his face with callousness that was uncaring of hurt feelings. He glanced down the street at Theresa's retreating back, making sure she was still safe and unharmed, before he turned his attention back to Leonardo. He took a step towards him, and Leo's shoulders broadened.

"Keep you're preaching to yourself Leo, especially when you're being a god damned hypocrite."

Leo's jaw worked in anger. "This is different and you know it. I am not still hung up on _her_. I was a kid dammit, it's over and done with."

Raphael smirked. "You can't even say her name Leo. It's the same fuckin thing."

He turned on a heel and stalked off, noting that the light at Theresa's law firm was still glowing brightly. He was already at the next roof when he heard Leonardo call out to him, his voice hushed, but full of anger.

"You better hurry up and catch this guy Raph. No sense making her fall in love with you when all you're going to do is leave her, right?"

Raphael felt his heart sink, but he kept walking, ignoring his older brother. There was that voice though, that damn voice that kept telling him normalcy could be obtained, and that was now yelling painfully, _'Too late!' _

_**xxx**_

Raphael looked into Theresa's office with dismay. He'd seen clearly as he'd approached her window that there was a light on inside of it. Then, just moments before he'd climbed into the sill, the light in her office had been turned off, and now that he was looking into it he thought it appeared untouched. He slid the window open anyway though, climbing into her office silently.

He looked around, trying to find anything that looked out of the ordinary before he turned and shut the window. He then moved through the office with cat like stealth, trying to find something that seemed out of place, looking for a clue that would alert him to why someone would be in her office while she wasn't there. He felt the top of her PC for warmth, to see if perhaps someone had powered it up. But it was cool when he touched it, and he knew that it hadn't been on for hours. When he reached her closet he flung it open, but the only thing in it was a coat, an umbrella, and an extra suit that she must keep for emergencies.

Feeling foolish and jumpy he turned to leave when he noticed a faint light outside her door. Holding his breath he unlocked and opened the door slowly. There was a light on at the end of the hall, in a different office, and Raphael stepped out of the room and crept down the hall. When he reached the door he saw that it was still halfway open, and that the name plate on the outside of it said _Justin Hunt Esq._, in bold gold lettering. More than a little suspicious, Raphael peered into the room. Justin was there behind his desk, looking down at his the paperwork, face leaning on his fist in a bored manner. Lying beside his desk was the dog Dandy, who was sleeping. Justin, Raphael thought, looked tired and annoyed. He was muttering under his breath, but all Raphael heard was; "fucking _bullshit_."

Raphael pulled his head back and made his way back to Theresa's office, entering it quietly and tuning the latch behind him. He left through the window, still making absolutely no sound, before he took off back to Theresa's apartment as fast as his feet would carry him, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, clambering up and down fire escapes and pipes and window sills.

When he got to her fire escape, Raphael let himself him. Immediately he was met with loud barking, and he could hear Leo's voice from the kitchen.

"Damn dog… calm down!"

Raphael grinned ruefully and made his way to the kitchen. When he entered it, he was greeted with the sight of Leonardo perched onto of the table, katana halfway unsheathed and in a defensive stance.

"Raph!" Theresa yelped, wrapping the leash multiple times around her hand and writs. "Help!"

Raphael moved hurriedly to her and grabbed Thor by the collar.

"Thor! Calm down!" he said firmly. Then he looked up at his brother. "Put those away," he said, indicating the katanna's that were now both unsheathed and at the ready.

Leonardo raised his brows high and exclaimed, "Are you crazy?!"

Thor growled tried to leap at Leo, but Raphael held tight.

"He just needs a firm hand," Raph said, and with Theresa's help they pulled him away from the table and far enough from Leo that the leader could jump down.

"Thor, _sit_!" Raphael commanded, and the dog gave one last bark in Leo's direction before he grudgingly sat on his rump.

Raphael looked over his shoulder at his brother, still keeping a tight grip on Thor's collar. "Just pet him, he'll only keep barking at you if you don't."

Leo's jaw worked fiercely before he nodded and walked to Thor. The dog growled deep in his throat as Leonardo approached, but Leo didn't not hesitate as he stuck a fist out for the dog to sniff. The growling continued, but when Raphael jerked the dog's collar as said, "_No_," Thor stopped long enough to sniff Leo's hand.

Before Thor had much time to think about it, Leo was scratching behind his ears, the same annoyed expression on his face as before.

"Theresa," he said, "when Raph said _dog_, I didn't know he meant _horse_."

Theresa smiled hesitantly. "Yeah, well, Thor has character."

Leonardo raised an eye ridge at her before shrugging and taking a step back. Thor had stopped growling, but he still was regarding Leo with contempt.

"I'm going back," he said, glaring at Raphael in a way that obviously portrayed that he'd not forgotten about the fight they'd had on the rooftop. "April's still gonna be down there in the morning. You two should come."

Raphael nodded. "Yeah, we'll be there."

Theresa nodded as well and smiled tentatively at Leo. "Thanks," she told him, and Leonardo's eyes softened.

"You're welcome, Theresa. I'll see you tomorrow."

He left from her window, and she followed him and locked it once he was gone. When she turned, Raphael was there, leaning against her door jamb and looking irritable.

"So… you two must have gotten into a fight," she told him.

Raphael looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "Why do you thank that?" he asked, and Theresa shrugged.

"Probably… probably because when he walked in he said, "I don't understand what you see in him Theresa." Then Thor went crazy and he didn't have a chance to say anything else."

Raphael made a noise of exasperation in the back of his throat.

"Idiot. He's an idiot," was all he said.

Theresa stood there, looking at the floor for a full minute before she said anything.

"Listen… I meant what I said on the phone, I'm not going to be like that other girl. I won't-"

"Can we not talk about that?" Raphael snapped, cutting her off.

Theresa pressed her lips together and nodded. "Yeah, sure. …I'm taking a shower."

She walked past him, keeping her eyes diverted from his face as she did. Before she stepped into the bathroom she caught a glimpse of Thor, sprawled on her living room couch and snoring. She smiled, knowing she loved the big dog no matter how over protective of her he was, before she entered the bathroom and let the door shut behind her. Once she was in the shower, the water so hot it was practically scalding, she let her mind wander.

What had she done to upset Raphael? She had an inkling that it wasn't anything she herself had done, but the scars the last girl had left on him. He was weary of a relationship, and when he let himself think to long about what he was getting himself into, he panicked. Theresa knew he was afraid of being hurt again (as hard as it was to imagine him afraid of anything), and she understood that feeling. She had been in plenty of bad relationships, but all the bad did not make her want to give up on the possibility of love. She sighed deeply. She didn't know how to make him realize that she would not do as the last girl had. She did worry, however, that it wasn't going to be her doing the hurting in this relationship, and that Raphael was going to be the one doing the heart breaking.

She felt movement behind her, and she jumped when an arm wrapped around her waist. The shock was short lived, however, as Raphael pulled her to him, her back pressed tightly to his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder, water running over both of them.

"I'm sorry," he said, gripping her fiercely, and Theresa nodded and turned her head, kissing him on the cheek.

"We'll talk about it later," she said, knowing the topic was far from over, knowing that this was only a lull until the next argument began. She let it go though. She wanted him, wanted to be near him, wanted to feel him close to her more than anything in the world, and she could postpone what could be a potentially heartbreaking conversation until later.

She turned in his arms until she faced him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He returned the kiss, holding her to him tightly, his fingers digging into her back. He'd taken off his mask and belt, and his knee and elbow pads. He was as naked as Theresa- as far as she was concerned. She let her hands wander, let her fingers probe and explore until they made their way to the center of his body. She turned her attention to his neck, kissing it and smiling when he sighed and tilted his head back. He leaned heavily against the shower wall, still holding her securely to him, and after a moment of deep breathing he let his member drop from between his legs. Theresa, not being able to help herself, looked down and smiled.

"Neat trick," she murmured, and Raphael laughed throatily. He stopped laughing when she let her hand wrap around him though, sucking in a deep breath and groaning. Theresa smiled and, kissing her way down his neck and chest, went to her knees.

It wasn't until much later that they made their way back to her bed, and later still that either of them actually slept.

_**xxx**_

Leonardo entered the lair still fuming about the rooftop dispute he'd had with Raphael. He held his anger well though, only clenching his jaw and breathing in deeply. He looked around the area, noting that it was empty in the space made for the living room. The only occupant visible was April, sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in her hand and a book hiding her face. She hadn't changed much through the years; perhaps a few more laugh lines had appeared around her eyes though. Her hair was still the same bright red color, and it was now piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She wore pink cotton pajamas and slippers that were made for comfort, not style.

"Hey," Leo said by way of greeting, and April lowered the novel and looked up at him, smiling.

"Hi there," she said. She indicated for him to join her, and he did, sitting across from her and letting his shoulders relax.

"So you had a fight with Raphael then?" April asked, and Leo gave her a small half grin. There was no point even trying to hide anything from her anymore, she knew by the look on his face just what he was thinking.

"Yeah… more or less," he responded. "How did it go while I was gone?" He asked.

April shrugged. "It was ok. Casey is with Splinter, Donny's asleep. Those two boys are in the dojo, working out," there was a pause before she added, "… I don't like Tommy."

Leonardo raised a brow. "Oh? Why?"

"He's a punk. He asked me if I'd help him get out of here. When I told him you all were doing him a favor he got pissed and stormed off into the dojo."

Leo worked his jaw. "Where was Corbin when this happened?" he asked, looking the dojo's door and wondering if Theresa would be upset if he blackened her brother's eye.

April shook her head, "He didn't hear," she said. "He was talking to Casey. He just went in there after him a few minutes ago"

Leonardo breathed deeply and grimaced. "Corbin's okay… he's a punk too, but he's not a bad guy. Tommy though… ugh. I don't know how he's Theresa's brother, he's an ass."

"Did he say something to you?" April asked.

Leo shook his head. "No, he won't talk to any of us. I've heard him talking to Corbin though. He's a prick."

April laughed softly. "I remember when you never used to curse. I like this grown up side of you though, it's refreshing."

She smiled at him, and Leo ran a hand over his face before he smiled back. It was a tight smile though, and it didn't reach his eyes.

"So, tell me about the fight with Raphael," April said, and after only a moments hesitation, Leo told her everything. No matter how far away she was, no matter how much time went by without seeing her face, he always felt that he could open up to her. Nothing was taboo, nothing was prohibited. There was no topic he didn't think he couldn't discuss with her, even now.

She listened without interruption as he told her about Raphael and Theresa, and then about the confrontation on the roof. He ended by telling her about Raphael throwing Karai in his face, and how his temperamental brother had suggested that his situation with Mia was the same as it was with Leonardo's own past relationship with Shredders daughter.

There was a moment of silence when Leonardo finished. Then April said tentatively, "Well… it _is_ sort of the same."

Leonardo's brows rose as high as they could. "How?!" he asked incredulously. "_How_ is it the same?"

April shifted uncomfortably. "It's just; neither you or Raph really got over either one of them enough to move on. Karai hurt you as much as Mia hurt Raphael… you don't think that has anything to do with the way you are now?"

Leo's face was disbelieving. "You've got to be kidding me. April, I am _not_ still hung up on her. That was almost _six_ years ago."

"But you're not seeing anyone. You haven't really dated."

Leo snorted, "I've dated dammit. What, because I'm not falling in love means I'm still burning a candle for her? Jesus, I haven't been in a serious relationship because I haven't met anyone I feel that way about. Is that so hard for everyone to understand?"

April bit her lip and fiddled with the pages of her book. "Leo… I'm just saying that maybe… maybe you haven't been in a relationship because you _don't want_ to be in a relationship."

Leonardo, always calm, felt the anger creeping up his neck. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She sighed deeply before saying, "It means that maybe you keep yourself at an arms length from anyone you meet because you're afraid of getting hurt. You keep yourself shut off from the world, Leo. Just like Raph." She paused and then added, "What about this girl you've been seeing, the one you go out meet with every few weeks? Don't you have any feelings for her?" April asked, her face calm but probing.

Leonardo clenched his jaw violently. "It's not like that," he said tightly.

"But why?! Why can't you feel more about her? _Obviously_ you like her."

The image of Collette, soft and pale, flashed into Leo's mind. "It's not like that," he repeated, this time more firmly.

"There _has_ to be a reason," April pressed. "Just tell me a reason and I'll back off."

Leonardo felt his anger boil over. "Because dammit it's just not! Because neither one of us feel that way about each other. Because I'm too busy with other things to focus on her. Because she's a God damn prostitute and fucking is all we do."

April flinched back at his outburst. There was quiet for a moment, but before she could open her mouth to speak Leo cut her off.

"And no," he began, "I'm not paying her or anything idiotic like that. Its just sex. That's it. She was in trouble one night and I helped her out. We've been seeing each other since. But it's _never_ been more that that. Are you happy now April? Is that enough _fucking_ detail?"

Cursing at April had never been something that Leonardo practiced, and he knew that if Splinter were aware of the conversation going on right now, his head would be meeting with the end of his father's cane.

April looked at him, hurt. "All I'm saying is that maybe you should loosen up and let yourself live a little."

Leo glared across the table at her, "Live a little?" he asked, his voice derisive. "You've got to be kidding me. April, maybe you haven't realized it, but there's been a lot of thing going on here that I don't have the luxury to just ignore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" April questioned, incensed.

Leonardo shook his head, "Nothing," he said, folding his arms into his chest and diverting his eyes.

Anger sparked into April's green eyes. "Tell me," she commanded, her voice firm.

Leonardo sucked in a breath and looked at her. "It means that you've been gone for two years, and that things have happened in our lives without you. It means that I've had to take care of my sick father, and my manic-depressive younger brother, and everything else that's come along, and I _don't have time_ to just to live my life."

"I've been here! I'm not _that_ far away!" April protested, her eyes huge and her voice going an octave higher.

"You haven't been here and you know it. I've seen you a hand full of times since you moved."

"I've been working! Christ Leo, I'd just gotten married and was settling into my new life," April looked at him, clearly hurt.

Leonardo, however, couldn't help but tell her his next words, unable to keep them from coming out of his mouth.

"A new life that excluded us," he growled, his eyes accusing. "I get that you wanted to be with Casey and move to the farm house. I get it. But you left me here with all these problems and you didn't even bother to help. You didn't even offer! When Jade died you were here for three days April. _Three_ days. You _knew_ Splinter was sick and you _knew_ Mikey was flipping out, and you didn't even stick around long enough to make sure the dirt was over her grave."

April smacked her hand on the table, "Leo, its not like that and you know it! I've got a job; I can't just drop everything and come down here. You're being selfish."

It was the first time in his life that Leonardo had ever been called selfish. In the back of his mind he knew it was true, but there was still a part of him that couldn't help feeling that April had abandoned them when he'd needed her the most.

"Take it however you want," he said, diverting his eyes once more and breathing deeply, willing himself to calm down.

"Leo, Splinter is getting better and you know it. Mikey and Donny will work through this, and Raph… well, he'll do whatever he wants. Maybe you should focus on _you_."

Leo glared at her. "Winters coming April. What happens when Splinter gets worse? What happens if Donny and Mike don't work it out? I'm responsible for them April… I can't just do what I want."

There was silence, and finally Leo stood.

"I'm sorry I cursed at you," he said, not really sounding sorry. He pushed in his chair and looked at her, sensing that she wanted to say something else to him.

"Leo… I need to talk to all of you tomorrow." She said, and her voice sounded sad and strained from the fight.

Leo looked down at her and had a sudden realization. "Is it because you're pregnant?" he asked.

There was a pause before she answered, "I am, but that's not what's it's about."

"…Mikey wont be here," he said, knowing that he shouldn't expect his brother back at the lair anytime soon.

"That's fine," April replied. "I can tell him later."

Leo couldn't help slipping in, "If you're here later."

April glared at him, her jaw sticking out in defiance. "Just please make sure everyone's here so we can talk," she said, ignoring his comment.

Leo nodded and began making his way to his father's subway compartment, feeling a tightness in his shoulders that only came from stress, and a pounding in his temples that only came from anger.

"Leo?" April called hesitantly, and he stopped and looked back at her.

"Yeah?"

"… You said she was a prostitute… You're using protection, aren't you?"

Leonardo felt a new wave of anger break over him, but did not let it show. Instead he only looked at her for a long moment before saying, "April, you're not my Mother. Keep advice like that for Donny."

He disappeared then into Splinters room, leaving April reeling from the argument and wondering what he'd meant by _'You're not my Mother.' _

Hadn't they always been _friends? _

_**xxx**_

_**Authors Note:**_

I'm so proud of myself with all these updates. How cool am I?

I _have_ been neglecting my other stories though, so it may be a while before you all get the next chapter. Just warning you. :)

Oh Lola. Have I told you how great you are lately? No? Well you are, you're just great. Thanks for the awesome review! And thank you to everyone who reads this, you guys are just wonderful!!

Hope you enjoyed!! And you know, I always appreciate the reviews. ;)


	17. Chapter Seventeen, Sickness and Fear

_**Author's Note: **_

Just a quick note before the story begins. The turtle's incarnation I follow is the new series on FoxBox, not the old one from my childhood. In this series a lot of really amazing things happen. The turtles go to other worlds, Shredder is an Utrom, aliens attack the earth _twice_… things of that nature. I'm not _ever_ going to mention that in any of these stories. Not to say that none of that happened, but I think it would take away from the realistic perspective I'm trying to make in theses fan fic's (because TMNT is SO realistic to begin with, lol).

Also, like a few other authors on the net (candlelit included), the turtles have grown since their teenage years, now standing in a range of anywhere between 5'11 to 6'2 in height. It's called fan _fiction_ for a reason, and I like it when other authors make them have a growth spurt, so why can't I make them have one as well? (Lol, if you happen to like them of a shorter stature, use your imagination, but I'll still write things like "she looked _up_ at him.")

And as for the lair, if you haven't noticed, I took the lair that they live in from the second live action movie. In the new cartoon, the turtles continuously have to move into new hiding places. I think that after years of fighting The Foot and Purple Dragon and other various enemies, this is where they ended up; the abandoned subway (and I bet money that the new cartoon eventually takes them there as well).

That was all. For some reason that's been bothering me for a while, so I figured I'd better hurry up and make a note of it before this story ends. :)

Enjoy!

_**xxx **_

_**Chapter Seventeen: Sickness and Fear **_

_**xxx**_

"I think we have a problem."

Leonardo looked up from the punching bag he'd been assaulting with a blank expression. Corbin was standing at the entrance to the dojo, his back turned to Leonardo as he closed and bolted the door. When he tuned to face the large turtle again, Corbin's normally laid-back expression was a mask of concern and trepidation.

Leonardo, who'd in the last week grown to some what like the man standing across the room from him, took the bait.

"What's the problem?" he asked, punching the heavily duct taped sand bag one last time, sending it spinning, before he walked to a corner of the room and opened his water bottle. While he drank deeply, he studied Corbin.

Corbin Castillo, whose name was well know throughout the slums in association with gang leaders like Emanuel and Roberto Vasquez (the Vasquez brothers were drug peddlers and pushers, and they were the source of a large percentage of drug activity in the Manhattan area), was looking less like a common thug and more like a somewhat responsible grown man. Although, he still had somewhat of a ruffian look about him. His clothes were the same, still so baggy that his jeans hung down past his buttocks and a white tee shirt so large it hid the fact that his boxers were navy blue Hanes. His wardrobe was limited, and all he and Tommy had were clothes Theresa had brought down to them. She'd been smart in her purchasing though- value sized packages of boxers, socks, and oversized white tees for both of them, two pairs of plain grey sweats, and a toothbrush for each of them. At least she'd known that they hadn't needed much.

So although Corbin's appearance had not changed, nor his way of walking or talking, there was something in his demeanor that had shifted. Corbin had, in the span of a week, become more resemblent to an adult instead of a child running around in a twenty eight year olds body. It was almost as though you could look at him and know that there was a change going on in his mind, a shift from ignorance to intelligence, a leap from prolonged adolescence to adulthood. Leonardo felt a brief moment of self gratification, as he knew it was because of him. Because while Leonardo had scrutinized Corbin, Corbin had scrutinized Leonardo right back.

Corbin had tentatively watched the leader in blue from a distance, examining his actions, analyzing his words. It hadn't taken very long for the man to realize that Leonardo was, in all sense of the word, a champion. He was like a superhero straight out of a comic book (which Corbin was deeply attached to. He'd always been partial to The Martian Manhunter, who had green skin and came to earth to join the Justice League in their pursuit of eradicating evil villains like Lex Luther and Solomon Grundy). Hamato Leonardo was a katana wielding, Bushido practicing, superhero.

Corbin hated, even now, that he liked the turtle. He wished even that he could despise him for his highly unnatural existence. But it had only taken a day for him to realize that what he _really_ wanted, was to be like him. Leonardo was, for lack of a better word, good. He was strong and firm, skilled and just, and Corbin found himself seeing in Leonardo all the things that he was not. The double katanna's strapped across his shell were there to stop the villains, the evil doers, the bad guys. And Corbin was, in all his drug advocating, prostitute pimping glory, a bad guy.

But Leonardo had not treated him as though he were a bad guy. He'd talked to him. And yes, he'd told him without qualms that he thought what Corbin was doing, out there in the real world, was wrong. But still, he'd talked to him; he even formed a tentative friendship with him. And this, which should have come at no surprise to Corbin, had angered Tommy, who had been his best friend since he was fifteen. He saw it as betrayal, high treason on Corbin's part, for handing around what he'd dubbed as _freaks_, or _monsters_. And Corbin, who had always been the one standing by Tommy (even when everyone else seemed to think he was insane or brain damaged) couldn't help but think, _'Who cares?'_

Who cared if Tommy was pissed? It was Tommy fault; after all, that Corbin was now in this mess with him. Because Theresa had told him that Benito was looking for her brother, and he was looking for Corbin, too. All those years of associating with a fuck up like Tommy had finally caught up with him, and when Tommy went missing, and Corbin dropped off the radar as well, everyone knew they were together. He cursed himself sometimes, for having a friend like Tommy. All of Corbin's friends were associated in street activity, most of them with records of gang history, but Tommy had to be the one with the least amount of common sense.

And thoughts of Thomas Alexander Colden, friend for over thirteen years, brought Corbin back around to why he was interrupting Leonardo, who'd been angry all morning.

"I just found out somethin' last night and… and it's bad," Corbin finally said in answer to Leonardo's question.

Leo raised an eye ridge and finished off half of the water in his bottle.

"So… Are you going to tell me about this problem, or are you going to lurk by the door?"

Corbin sighed and ran a hand of his face. Leonardo recognized the gesture as one of stress.

"It's just…." Corbin trailed off and made his way across the dojo to stand in front of Leonardo.

The turtle waited for Corbin to continue, but when he did not Leo said, "Well, I assume that this is about Tommy. Just tell me, if it's that bad you can tell him I beat it out of you."

Leonardo was younger than Corbin, who was twenty eight to Leo's twenty four. But Leonardo was, without a shadow of a doubt, the mature adult in the room.

"Tell me before I really _do_ beat it out of you," he told Corbin, and Corbin groaned and nodded.

"It's Tommy," he began, "And he's… he's being an ass. That guy your brother killed, Parker McCoy, Tommy knew him."

For one moment Leonardo felt his heart drop down to his feet. The night of Jade's death, the image of his blood drenched younger brother, claiming to have killed the man responsible for her death, would haunt him for the rest of his life. Even the name Parker McCoy, said so much recently that it made his ears ring, brought him into a cold sweat.

When Leonardo said nothing, only looked at Corbin with that same unnerving blank expression, Corbin continued on. "Tommy wants to get out of here so bad cause he wants to out you guys. You know… tell on you. Expose you? Whatever. Anyway, its cause… Benito Escobar and Parker McCoy were… sort of half brothers."

Leonardo had no expression, made no move, but inside his heart missed a beat, and he unconsciously held his breath.

Corbin frowned and continued on once he was aware that Leonardo was going to say nothing.

"They have the same Dad," he began, "but Parkers Mom kept her name, seein' as Benito's father _raped_ her. Benito and Parker didn't talk much, they didn't get along well. Parker hated his real father, and Benito and him got along ok. Which was why Parker was joining a rival gang. But, Benito was pissed when he got killed. He's always had his ears open for his brothers murderer, there just weren't ever any leads… till now."

Silence. It permeated the dojo. Leonardo, who kept his face unreadable, felt dizzy. Parker McCoy and Benito Escobar were half brothers? It seemed surreal, like it was too much of a solid connection to be a coincidence. Like fate, if there were such a thing, had stepped in and made this all happen accordingly. Benito and Parker were such contrasting names that at first Leonardo had a hard time believing there was any relation between the two. But Benito's father, as Corbin clued him in, had been a Cuban immigrant, and his mother had been African American. Parker McCoy had kept his Caucasian mothers last name, and had inherited only a slight tan and dark eyes from his biological father.

"Tommy knew Parker from the street… They didn't really like each other though. Tommy's a rich boy in a poor kid's neighborhood, posing like he's somebody else. Parker hated that. He was pissed at Tommy for being somethin' he wasn't."

Leonardo took a deep breath and looked narrowly at Corbin. "I thought you just found out about all this last night?" he asked.

Corbin nodded, "I did. I always knew Parker, but I didn't know his name. Everyone always referred to him as Park, or Benito's kid brother. I didn't really talk ta him, didn't bother gettin' to know his real name. Tommy knew it though, I guess they sort of were rivals, and he was spillin his guts last night. He wants to get outta here and find Benito. Tell him about your brother killing Parker and dropin' him offa building."

Leo shuddered inwardly. Michelangelo _had_ dropped Parker off a building. Right off the roof of Jade's apartment complex. Jesus he hated remembering this, hated thinking of his brother killing another living thing so… callously.

"Why does Tommy think Benito will believe him?" Leonardo asked, his jaw working furiously. "Really? 'A huge mutated turtle with an orange mask killed the half brother you never really liked.' That sounds crazy. And why in the world would Benito keep him alive even if he _did_ believe him?"

Corbin shook his head. "He's gonna try to get outta here on his own, so he can lead Benito back to you guys. Prove to him that he aint lyin' by having him get a good look at one of your faces. And he thinks he'll stay alive because the stipulation has always been that if someone can come forward with who killed Parker McCoy, they have immunity."

Leonardo held back a groan of frustration. Wasn't his life already complicated enough? Didn't he already have enough to deal with? And now this?

"He can't leave," Leo said grimly, "I'm ninja, how the hell does he think he could sneak out of here? Besides, no ones going to help him, and he'll never get out of here without a blindfold."

Corbin nodded, "I know," he said. "I was just warning you. And… and I wanted you to let your brother, Michelangelo, know."

_Michelangelo_. Leonardo shook his head, and this time it was he who was running a hand over his face, full of stress and anxiety. What would Michelangelo say, what would he _do_, when he found this out. Would it even matter to him anymore? Now that he'd come to find out that Donny and Jade had been together, did revenge and retribution matter?

'_Damn,'_ Leo thought, '_this is ridiculous.'_

And it was. All of it, the tragedy and mourning and secrets, it was ridiculous. His family, his brothers, they had always been close, had always shared a bond that he felt went deeper than other families might share. They were the only of their species, they were ninja masters, and they were friends. And now? Now everything was falling apart. Everyone was losing their mind. Everyone was coming completely undone.

"This… this is going to be a problem, I think," Leonardo finally said. He finished his water and looked at Corbin, sizing him up, his eyes calculating.

"You need to keep and eye on Tommy for me… please. Don't let him out of here and… and keep him away from April."

Corbin nodded, knowing he was betraying he best friend, and yet he felt no shame for doing so. For once, Corbin was doing what was right.

Leonardo sighed and was halfway to the door before Corbin stopped him.

"Hey… Leo," he called, and the terrapin turned and looked at him, towel slung over his shoulder and empty water bottle loose in his hand. Corbin could see once more the large wedge that was missing on the top left side of Leo's shell, and the coinciding scar on his breastplate and shoulder. Battle scars of a warrior.

"Will you… Will you teach me? To fight?"

Leo's eyes bore into him. "You come from a rough neighborhood… you can't fight?"

Corbin shifted uneasily. "I want to fight like you," he said, and he sounded gruff and vulnerable all at the same time.

Leo's eye ridges raised in speculation. "Is this supposed to be something I do to keep you from helping Tommy escape? Like blackmail?" he asked

Corbin shook his head. "No. I just… I just want to be better…"

He'd meant to say, I want to be a better fighter. But instead he'd said he wanted to be better, and Corbin realized with a sort of inner shock that it was true. He wanted to be better, in all ways.

Leonardo also seemed to realize that he was indeed telling the truth, so he nodded.

"We'll start today then," he said. "After we talk with April."

He left Corbin in the dojo by himself, and the man felt a great rush of what must have been gratefulness flood into him.

He was tired of being a child, and he was tired of being a screw up. He was tired of people not trusting him, and he was certainly tired of living a life that almost got him killed everyday. But most of all, Corbin Castillo was tired of being a villain.

He didn't want to be a villain anymore.

_**xxx**_

"The reason I needed Leo to follow you home last night was cause someone was in your office."

The statement came from Raphael early the next morning, while Theresa was dressing. She stopped; jeans halfway pulled on, and looked across her room at Raphael.

"Oh? So you went and checked it out?"

Raphael nodded, buckling his leather belt and checking that his sia's were secure in there holsters.

"Yeah. By the time I got there whoever it was had left your office though. I looked around, but nothin' was outta place."

Theresa's brows knit and she finished pulling up her jeans. "My door was locked," she said distractedly. "I locked it before I left with Justin yesterday… No one else has a key…"

She was deep in thought, pulling a light sweater over her head, when Raphael added, "Justin was in his office still."

Theresa raised an arched brow in his direction. "Hmm… What was he doing?"

"Paperwork. Muttering like he was pissed about something." He pursed his lips in her direction, his eyes full of contemplation. "The light in your office went out just before I got there. He was the only one still around… seems sorta' incriminating. Side's, I don't see how anyone else coulda' left that quickly."

Theresa bit her lip and nodded, quickly rearranging the new perspective she'd made of Justin. He'd, for the first time since she'd known him, actually seemed like a real human being the day before. What with coming to her rescue and risking his life. Even his choice in dogs seemed to make him more of a tangible individual and less of an indifferent chauvinist.

"He usually comes to the office for a few hours on Saturday to look over case files. I could make a trip over there after we're done with this. See if I can't pump him for information."

Raphael chuckled at this. "Pump him for information? You sound like a cop on one of those crappy old TV shows."

Theresa grinned at him and retrieved her purse. "See you at the manhole?" she asked. Raphael nodded and slid open her window, doing a cursory glace of his surrounding before he stepped onto the fire escape...

Theresa, patting Thor's head before she shut him in her bathroom, exited out her front door and locked it behind her. She and Raphael were on their way to meet April, and all in all Theresa felt less nervous about the whole ordeal than she had the day before. Mostly it was due to Raphael, who had assured her that April was not going to hate her, and that it really didn't matter anyway.

When she reached the alley way she saw Raphael already had the manhole open, and he lowered her in first before following. He closed the manhole and turned to Theresa, who was making disgusted faces at the sewer water running over her tennis shoes. Without a word Raphael shook his head and scooped her into his arms, carrying her bride style down the sewer tunnel. Theresa laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder, letting her eyes slide closed and enjoying the moments she had left with him before they had their talk. It was going to have to happen soon, she realized, and a part of her knew that it would not go well. Raphael was too resistant to the relationship to let go of his insecurities, and all Theresa could do was hope that there was still a chance that he would come to his senses.

They remained quiet on their way to the turtle's underground home, and Theresa enjoyed the feel of his arms, the way he effortlessly carried her to the lair. She even let her eyes slide closed and fell into a relaxed half-sleep, aware the entire time that she was in Raphael's strong arms. When she felt his lips on her forehead she only smiled and snuggled closer to him, her hand unconsciously trailing the grooves of his plastron.

When they entered the lair Raphael sat her gently on her feet and turned his attention to the occupants in what seemed less and less like his living space, like his home. April and Donatello were sitting at the kitchen table, and Donny was holding an ice pack to his left side, presumably where ribs had been broken. He grinned and gave a small wave when he saw them, and Theresa held back a grimace and smiled back. He looked better than he had a week ago, which was saying something, but his face was still bruised and discolored, and his right eye was swollen shut.

Some of the contortion must have show on her face however, because Donny shook his head and said, "Don't worry, I look worse than I feel. Beside, Amy has me on great meds."

Raphael and Theresa made there way to the kitchen table, and when they reached it Raph introduced her to April. They smiled and made pleasantries, and when Theresa apologized for not being able to make it to the lair the night before, April had laughed and told her not to worry about it. It was more anticlimactic than Theresa had anticipated. April- or "The red headed Goddess (as Amy had referred to her as), was just a normal woman, and Theresa found that meeting Amy had seemed like more of an event than finally meeting April.

_Go figure. _

"Where's Leo and Casey?" Raphael asked her, leaning down to kiss her on her cheek.

"In the dojo with those two boys," April replied, patting his hand and motioning to the dojo's door.

Raphael nodded and looked at Theresa. "I'll be right back," he told her, then he left her side and disappeared through the wooden door at the far left of the lair, leading to the area where he'd learned almost all he knew about martial arts.

When the door swung shut behind him he was met with the sight of Leonardo frowning deeply at Tommy, who had his arms crossed and was refusing to make eye contact with the blue bandana clad turtle. They were at the far end of the room, and both Corbin and Casey were standing behind Leo and also looking at Tommy.

"_Well_. Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here? Aren't there people up there trying to _kill_ you?" Leo was asking Tommy heatedly, but Tommy said nothing, only clenched his jaw and pressed his lips together in an action that clearly read, _'I'm not saying anything.'_

"What's up?" Raphael asked, approaching the group, hands on sia's in an unconscious gesture.

Leo rounded on Raphael and signaled to Tommy in anger. "He's asked both April and Casey to get him out of here since they've been down here, and I _don't get it_. Wasn't he _begging_ Theresa for a hiding place before? Now he's got the best place to hide in all Manhattan and he can't wait to get out? Something's up."

Raphael's brows knit and he looked to Corbin.

"He said anything to you about it?" he asked Corbin, and Corbin shook his head and replied, "Nah. I don't know what's up with him."

Leonardo sighed in exasperation. "I don't have time for this," he said irritably. He walked past Raphael and opened the door leading back into the main part pf the lair. He looked pointedly at everyone in the room, and after a moment they all began to file out. Casey slapped Raphael's should when he walked past him, and Raphael pulled him into a brief shoulder bump that could hardly be called a hug.

"Its been like five months, man," Casey said, still tall and heavily muscled, his long black hair still down to his shoulders, grinning at one of his oldest friend jovially. Some things, Raphael realized, never changed.

Raphael nodded emphatically. "Yeah Case, and it's been longer than that since I beat your ass in poker."

Casey snorted. "Hey, poker night was last night, you missed it. Amy was here and everything."

At this point Tommy had left the room (disappearing into Leo's old subway compartment bedroom that he was letting Tommy and Corbin use), and Corbin was walking past Raphael and Casey.

"Yeah," he slipped in as he walked to the door, "and I beat all yall's asses."

Raphael's eye ridges raised and he looked to Leonardo. "That true?" he asked.

Leonardo nodded sourly, as if it pained him to admit defeat to someone like Corbin. "Come on," he said, "April wants us all to have a talk."

They all left the room, but Corbin lagged behind and pulled Leo to the side. They stepped outside of the dojo, Leo shutting the door behind them, and Corbin looked around shiftily before he began to speak.

"Thanks," Corbin told him meaningfully, "It'll be easier to keep Tommy tellin' me shit if he thinks you don't know what's goin' on."

Leonardo sucked in an audible breath. "That was the point," he said through clenched teeth, clearly irritated that Corbin was even talking about the ruse.

Corbin nodded and went into the subway car, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"What was that about?" Raphael asked Leo, coming up next to him with a raised eye ridge.

"Benito Escobar and Parker McCoy were half brothers," Leo said, his voice strained. "Let's get this over with. When Aprils done I'll tell you more."

Raphael stood rooted to the spot when Leonardo walked away form him and joined everyone at the kitchen table. Benito Escobar and Parker McCoy? _Brothers_? He felt slightly sick, so he made his way to the table and took his seat between Theresa and Leo.

Across from Raphael sat April, and on either side of her were Casey and Donny. Raphael felt a pang of misery when he acknowledged that Mikey, who would definitely lighten up what looked like was going to be a somber discussion, was missing in action.

April took a deep breath, smiled at them all, then said, "I'm pregnant."

Silence. Leonardo scowled, Casey beamed like an idiot, Raphael was sure his jaw dropped (just a little), and Donny looked at April (with his good eye) and grinned in disorientated shock. Theresa looked at all of them in uneasy bewilderment.

It was Theresa who was the first to speak. "Umm… congratulations," she said, and Raphael was able to close his mouth once he heard her voice.

"Yeah, April, congrats," he said, his voice sounding odd to his own ears.

April rolled her eyes at Leonardo, and Raphael looked over and was surprised to see that his brother was still scowling, and more so, that he didn't look surprised at all. This meant, Raphael realized, that Leonardo already knew about Aprils being pregnant, and for some reason he was _not_ happy.

"Well, thank you, but that's not really all. See, since I'm pregnant… I can't keep working part time like I've been doing. I need to go back to full time for the benefits, and Casey just got a great job at a transportation company… here in the city. We're selling the farm and moving back… in a week."

Raphael couldn't help it, he grinned like a man who'd just been told Christmas was a holiday that was celebrated by having wild sex with multiple beautiful women. He stood, whooped loudly, and went around the table to scoop April in his arms and swing her around.

She gasped and laughed, hitting his shoulder and yelling. "Cut it out, the baby!"

He set her down firmly and grasped her belly (which was still flat), leaning down and talking to it. "Hey little man. You and me are gonna beat the hell outta yer Daddy. I'm gonna teach you all I know about poker and fighting."

"What? How to loose?" Donny quipped, limping his way to them and pulling April away from Raph and into a tight one handed hug.

"Congrats," he told her, pulling away and giving her a lopsided smile.

All eyes were then focused on Leonardo, who was looking as though he were torn; part of him wanting to hug her as well, and another part wanting to explode in anger.

He did neither. Instead he let his face go blank and shrugged. "Yeah, congratulations April, Casey."

Casey's eyes narrowed at the leader, but a sharp shake of April's head in his direction silenced what was sure to have been a knock down drag out brawl. Theresa saw all of this, her face an open expression of alarm, and Raphael too was at a loss to his older brother's behavior.

"Look," Leonardo began, standing, "I need to talk to Raph." He walked away from the table and to the dojo, disappearing behind the door, and Raphael, after a moment's hesitation, followed.

"Theresa," he called over his shoulder, "can you have Don show you where the cameras are? Have him turn em back on."

He disappeared with Leonardo into the dojo, and Theresa felt a deep red flush creep up her neck and cheeks. She didn't know if it was the embarrassment that came with the implication as to why the cameras were turned off in the first place, or the anger that told her that, no, they would not be repeating the glorious, mind blowing sex they'd had last night. Not anytime soon, at least.

Donny grimaced when the door shut behind Raphael. "Do you think, eventually, every one will stop talking through me, and actually talk _to_ me?"

April pat his arm sympathetically. Raphael hadn't, after all, needed to tell Theresa any of that. Donny was standing in the same room, and the request to turn off the cameras had been directed towards him. But Theresa suspected, and she was right to do so, that Raphael had wanted to let her know they would not be having anymore love making, and to let Donny know that he was still angry with him.

Theresa turned to Donny and smiled wanly. "Wanna show me those cameras?" she asked, and her voice was a bit to cheery to pass as normal. Donny, and everyone else in the room, pretended not to notice.

"Yeah, come with me," the purple banded turtle told her, and Theresa nodded a bit absentmindedly and followed him. He limped, she noticed, but his walk was strained, as if he were trying hard to keep from collapsing altogether. Even when Theresa had been attacked by her stalker she'd not been as damaged as Donatello, her injuries had only taken a matter of days to heal. Yet here it was, an entire week later, and Donny was looking only slightly better than he had when Michelangelo had first assaulted him.

They entered a subway car together, one that Theresa recognized as not being one of the turtles bedrooms. It was attached towards the end of the rail car, and was right next to what she knew was Donny's room. Once inside entirely, Theresa saw that it was a lab. There were beakers and glass vials, computers and gadgets, books and piles of paperwork. And on top of everything there was a thin layer of dust.

Theresa assessed that, after five months of doing nothing but mourning in silence for the loss of a loved one, dust would appear over an individual's life. It was symbolic to the pain Donny must have been feeling for so long. When Jade had died, everything that had been important to Donatello had died as well.

"The monitors are over here, towards the back," Donny said.

Theresa followed him to the back of the cab, maneuvering around a large wood table that took up most of the space in the room.

"It's as simple as tuning on the modem," Donny was telling her, powering up a PC that was connected to three different monitors. "All the cameras in your apartment are routed to this portal. I've got all the videos up at once, four camera angles to each monitor on split screens. They record when they're on and store into the hard drive… in case we need them later."

Theresa did quick math in her head and knew that it meant there were a total of twelve cameras in and around her apartment. The fact that she was so heavily under observation gave her a chill.

Then, as she watched Donatello click a few buttons and make the cameras come on in her apartment, something else caught her eye.

It was a Polaroid, half obscured by a note pad that was sitting on the desk. But what she could see of it showed her a picture that looked eerily familiar.

Donatello glanced up, and when he saw what she was looking at he made to snatch it away from her line of sight. Theresa, being uninjured, was able to grab the Polaroid before he could even touch his fingertips to it.

She jumped back, away from Donny's grabbing hand and looked at the picture, her eyes narrowed.

It was her, obviously taken from her fire escape window, and she was sleeping. Her face was turned directly towards the camera, and it was light enough that it must have been nearing early morning. She looked up at Donatello, her eyes accusing, and he looked very much like a deer caught in headlights.

"It's… Its you," he said lamely, and Theresa snarled and said, "I know it's me, what the hell is it doing _here_?"

Donny sighed and looked defeated. "When I went to fix your window, last week, it was already fixed. It was him, your stalker. He'd had your windows replaced and… and there were no locks on them. I had to install a whole different casement. …He also left that taped to the window."

There was silence, and Donny looked pained when she glared at him.

"Listen, I tried to figure out what company he went through to fix your window, but it was harder than I thought. There's all kinds of places that do that kind of repair work, and more than one client paid in cash. This guy's not stupid enough to leave a paper trail."

Theresa said nothing, just letting the shock of what he'd told her sink in. Finally, in a quiet voice she said, "Does Raphael know about this?"

Donatello looked at her, clearly miserable by her discovery of the photograph.

"He… he didn't want you to freak out… There's a note, on the back."

Theresa, her hands now shaking, flipped the picture over, and sure enough there was thick black scrawl across the lower part of the white border.

_**Taken four months ago. Please, Theresa, don't think I couldn't have had you long ago. And tell your new friends I say hello.**_

Theresa shuddered visibly. Four months ago… This maniac had been watching her for _four months_. Possibly longer? She remembered the cigarette butts Raphael had found outside of her fire escaped window and was immediately dizzy. How many nights had he been watching her? How many more pictures of her did he have?

When she remembered to breath it came in a loud panicked inhale. Her hand went to her mouth, and inexplicably tears began to fill her eyes.

"Shit," Donny muttered, and Theresa moaned and swayed.

"Don't faint!" Donny exclaimed, standing and grabbing her shoulders, pulling her to him. He preyed the picture from her fingers and slammed it on the desk, hiding its foreboding image under his notepad.

Theresa sobbed loudly, and Donny pulled her tighter and shushed her, rocking back and forth in a soothing manner. She couldn't help it though. The tears that had been created by the total and utter fear that was gripping her could not, would not, stop.

"I don't want to die!" she weeped, and Donny held her closer, tighter, feeling a shock course through him at her words.

Theresa knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that it was the wrong thing to say to Donatello, but it couldn't be helped. She was hysterical, and the pleading was not only to Donny, but to anything, any deity or higher power that might be listening.

"I don't want to die," she repeated in anguish, and Donatello shook his head.

"You're not going to die, Theresa. I swear your not." His voice was strained and horror struck.

Her cries must have carried, because the subway car's door suddenly slid open, and in its frame stood Raphael, clearly alarmed.

"Theresa?" he asked tentatively, and he strode across the room to her swiftly. When he pulled her out of Donny's arms and into his own, she collapsed against him, and her cries became more heated.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" she wailed, almost incoherently. "W-why didn't… you t-t-tell… me?"

Raphael looked up at Donny, clearly wanting an explanation, and Donny frowned and said, "She found the picture."

He pulled out the Polaroid from under the notepad and waived it at Raphael before he hid it back out of sight.

Raphael's body went deathly still, his fingers gripping into Theresa's back.

"I don't want to die!" Theresa repeated, and the fear that engrossed Raphael made his heart stop.

"Die?" he rasped, his arms wrapping around her almost vice like. "Theresa you aren't going to die. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

Theresa was in the midst of a panic attack, however, and although she heard his voice it did not sooth her. She could not stop the tears nor the hyperventilating from coming. It was as if these last two weeks of horror, of real and true danger, were just hitting her, all at once. And Raphael's arms, holding her so close, so fully that it was almost as if he were shielding her from danger, only made it all the worse. Because she didn't want to lose him, and she didn't want to die.

"I don't want to die."

_**xxx**_

It was less than an hour later, and Raphael had already left carrying a sniffling Theresa back to her apartment. April sipped her tea and walked into Splinters room, holding a mug for the rat as well. He was sitting up when she entered, propped up on an over abundance of soft pillows, and he smiled weakly at April after she closed the door behind her.

"My child," he said, his accent think as ever, and April was glad to hear that his voice was stronger than the last time she had spoken with him.

"Sensei," she replied, and handed him the mug of strong green tea.

"So, you told them you are pregnant," Splinter said, sipping his tea, and April nodded. She had talked to him last night, while Leonardo had been gone. It had been before she and the oldest turtle had gotten into their argument.

"And about you and Casey moving back to the city?" the rat pressed.

"I told them everything," she said, sitting on a chair that was next to his bed.

"You seem upset. What was all the commotion about earlier? I though I heard someone crying."

April sighed and nodded. "It was Theresa. She was upset about a picture Raphael and Donny found tapped to her window. It was from her stalker."

The rat nodded and looked sad. "Leonardo has spoken to me about the girl. It is good of Raphael to help her."

April's head shot up, and her expression was that of disbelief. "You… you haven't met her?!"

Splinter shook his head no, and April knew her eyes were as big as saucers.

"I have not," he replied.

April hid her expression in her coffee mug.

"I'm sure… I'm sure Raphael is planning on introducing you," she said.

The rat said nothing, and the two of them sat in silence for a long time. April's mind went into overdrive. Splinter was ill, that much was true, but why, _why_ hadn't Raphael brought Theresa, a girl who was obviously important to him, to meet his father?

The answer was in the question. It was _because_ Theresa was important to him that he kept her away from one of the most important people in his life. April was sure that it was Raphael's belief that Theresa and he would not last long, that it couldn't work between a woman like Theresa (or any woman for that matter) and a turtle.

April sighed, her heart ripping as she remembered Leonardo's words from the night before.

"_But you left me here with all these problems and you didn't even bother to help. When Jade died you were here for three days April. Three days. You knew Splinter was sick and you knew Mikey was flipping out, and you didn't even stick around long enough to make sure the dirt was over her grave." _

She felt a little sick at the memory, so she sipped her tea and reminded herself to breath deeply.

She'd not been of help for almost two years now, and look where the guys were. Mikey was angry and missing, Donny was beaten and depressed, Raphael was shutting himself off to anyone and everyone. And Leo… Leo was turning into someone she didn't recognize, and it was completely understandable. She was not the reason for all their problems, but still, she hadn't been of any real help. Was Leonardo the only one bitter with her? Were Mikey and Raph and even Donny resentful that she'd come to visit them less and less since she and Casey had gotten married?

'_Oh God,'_ she thought, _'I left them alone when they needed me.' _

And she knew then that she'd never distance herself so much from them ever again, no matter how far apart they were. And she was determined that Theresa, whether Raphael approved or not, meet his Father.

_**xxx**_

When Theresa opened her eyes it was to the face of Raphael, looming over her.

"Where am I?" she asked, and Raphael looked visibly relived.

"We're home," he told her. "You're in bed. You fell asleep on the way here"

Theresa nodded and wrapped arms that felt heavy around his neck, pulling him down until he lay next to her. She framed her body sleepily to his, and his hand ran soothingly up and down her back, pulling the comforter up and over them.

"I'm sorry," Raphael muttered in her ear, and Theresa nodded and replied, "Its ok. I know what you were trying to do"

"I just wanted to keep you safe. I didn't want you to be scared," he explained anyway.

Theresa laughed softly and felt herself falling into an exhausted sleep. "I know… I still love you."

Raphael held her tighter, remembering the pitiful way she'd cried, 'I don't want to die,' all the way home, until she'd practically passed out.

'_Fuck it,'_ he thought, and then he said, "I love you too."

Theresa drifted into sleep, worn and tired beyond anything shed ever felt, but she managed to say before she went completely into the blackness of dreamless slumber, "I knew that, too."

_**xxx**_

_**Authors Note: **_

…. Remember when I said it would take a while for me to update this fic? Apparently I lied. I think it's because I'm so close to the end, and it's given me this huge spurt of determination to get it finished. And yes, I know how it ends already; I'm not making it up as I go along. The ending has always been the same, ever sic I first started this.

Figured out who the stalker is yet? ;)

Lol, thanks as always to all who reviewed, and all who've been reading. You know I love you all.


	18. Chapter Eighteen, The Plan

_**Chapter Eighteen: The Plan**_

_**xxx**_

"Will you please, _please_, introduce Theresa to Splinter?"

The tone was laced with haughty exasperation in a voice that carried, and it made Raphael grimaced down at April as he glanced covertly around the lair, making sure Theresa was out of earshot. This was _not_ a conversation he wanted her hearing.

And she wasn't out of earshot, not really, but Raphael clung to the optimism that perhaps Theresa hadn't heard April's question, and that if she had she hadn't thought much of it.

"April, I said give it a rest. There's no reason ta keep pushin' it." He answered her through his teeth, clearly agitated.

April frowned and looked hotly up at the red banded turtle. "_Why_?!" she exclaimed, and her voice was definitely carrying now. "Will you at least tell my _why_ you wont?"

It was a week since Theresa's breakdown in the lair, a week since Raphael had walked into Donatello's lab to find her sobbing in his genius brother's arms, and in that time April had been persistent in vocalizing her thoughts to Raphael about Theresa and Splinter finally meeting. Raphael, who refused point blank to explain why he would not let the two meet, was becoming quickly irritated with the red head that seemed unable to let the topic go.

The truth was that part of Raphael _knew_ that Theresa and Splinter meeting sounded like an exceptional idea. He was certain that Splinter would love the girl just as quickly as he'd loved April or Amy. And he was positive that Theresa in turn would get along wonderfully with his Father. But another part of him, the part that refused to believe that what he had with Theresa was anything that could be considered serious, knew that introducing her to his Father would be a fatal mistake in keeping what they together any semblance of the word _casual_. It was that part of his mind, the one that screamed at him every time he told Theresa he loved her, that kept him from introducing her to Splinter.

At the moment, Theresa and Raphael were visiting for a few hours before they returned to her apartment. Raphael had been getting ready to enter the dojo to find Leonardo when April had cornered him just outside the door. Theresa was presently sitting at the kitchen table with Donatello, who was still looking battered (but better than he had), and they were playing Rummy, laughing periodically at something the other had to say. She didn't seem to notice Raphael and April, and she didn't seem to have heard any of the conversation they'd been having. Perhaps, Raphael silently hoped, she had missed the snarling discussion that was so obviously about her.

"I'm just not, okay?" he answered in exasperation.

He sidestepped April and her hawk like glare and entered the dojo, dismayed to hear the quick footsteps than meant she was following him. The door slammed shut behind her, but she did not say anything once they were in the practice room. Instead they both stood next to each other, watching as Leonardo and Corbin bowed to one another.

There was a moment where neither turtle nor human moved, and then Corbin sprang forward, his leg going high and arching; slamming down on what would have been Leonardo's shoulder. The blue banded leader was much to fast for the human, however, and he had only needed to take a simple step back before the blow ever hit him.

Corbin grinned at Leonardo. "I was quicker that time," he said, and Leonardo nodded and replied, "You were."

Corbin was wearing long shorts, opting for something more secure fitting that his usual baggy jeans. There was a dark bruise under his eye from where he and Leonardo had been practicing a few days earlier, and he'd unfortunately not been quick enough to avoid an oncoming blow. But other than being slower than Leonardo would have liked (Corbin was made of a lot of defined muscle, good for power behind a punch, but not for speed or defense) Corbin was a fast learner, and he was optimistic about his training. Leonardo had worried; Alpha male that he was, that Corbin would not take direction well. But the man had been nothing but appreciative to the instruction Leo was giving him.

Leonardo looked to Raphael now. "Something you needed?" he asked.

Raphael grinned, seeing the opportunity to partake in one of his favorite past-times; harassing Corbin. "That was you _quicker_?" he quipped, ignoring his brother and looking instead to the blue eyed social outcast.

"Fuck you," Corbin replied, middle finger flashing briefly at his waist in accompaniment with his words.

Raphael opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Leonardo. "Care to spar?" He asked Raphael, eye ridges arched and palms out.

Corbin suddenly looked ecstatic. "Yes. _Please_ spar. Kick his ass," he said heatedly to Leo, referring to Raphael. Ever since Raphael had learned that Leonardo was teaching Corbin the basics of Ninjitsu and the Martial Arts he'd been cynical as ever, teasing Corbin mercilessly whenever he had the chance.

"_Think you can kick my ass yet, Slim Shady?"_ he'd ask mockingly. And Corbin's response, unable to ever come up with anything even remotely clever, was always_; "Fuck you." _

Raphael smiled toothily. "Sure," he said casually. "It'll be a learning experience for the kid."

Corbin's jaw set in frustration. "I'm older than you, asshole," he snapped, and Raphael gave a bark of laughter and stepped onto the mat. Corbin's eyes rolled and he went to stand next to April, who stood watching the two brothers that were now facing each other with her arms crossed and her frown deep. She was obviously _not_ getting her question answered anytime soon, nor was she making any headway on the subject.

Raphael and Leonardo bowed, and when they advanced towards one another it was in unison. Almost as if it were an insult for Corbin's benefit, Raphael raised his leg high and brought it down hard on Leo's shoulder, landing the first blow of the sparring match.

They carried on for upwards of a half an hour, and Corbin watched raptly throughout the entire event. Every move that they made was perfected after years upon years of practice, each strike they executed with flawless and lethal skill.

'_Something to work towards,'_ he thought enviously.

By the time that the mock match had ended, Corbin felt more that a little intimidated and disappointed. Not only did it seem impossible that he would ever be as trained as the turtles, but Leonardo had failed to beat Raphael into surrender. Neither of them had really won the spar, and while Leonardo had kept the upper hand throughout a large portion of the match, Raphael had held his own easily. So easily, in fact, that Corbin was sure that neither terrapin had given their all to the fight.

"You should see Raph fight when he's angry," April said, almost as if she'd been reading Corbin's mind.

Corbin looked at her and frowned. "He's better?"

April's eyes were steady on the brothers, who were muttering quietly to one another, paying the two humans no mind. "Better? … I don't know if that's the word. He's… deadlier. Ruthless. He takes more risks. And yes, I suppose he's better. The guys used to call it _'seeing black.' _…There was a time when Raphael was angry a lot more than he is now… he's gotten calmer with age, I guess. But back then, whenever there was a fight, they would say Raph was seeing _red_, because he was always _so angry_."

April sighed heavily with the memory. "…But there was a different level of rage in him," she continued. "One that was hidden for a long time before any of us realized there could be that elevation of temper in _anyone_, let alone Raph. There was this time, and I had the unfortunate opportunity to be there, that Raphael went _beyond_ seeing red, beyond his usual level of anger. Whenever he got to that point of rage, the guys called it seeing black."

Corbin briefly wondered what had made Raphael angry enough to "see black", but he didn't have the time to ask April. Leonardo and Raphael were there in front of them by now, and Raphael didn't seem like the type to rehash past events that painted him to be something akin of a crazed sai-wielding psychopath.

"Learn anything?" Raphael asked him, and Corbin glared.

"Jesus Raph, will stop being such an ass?" April sounded annoyed, her voice wasp-like.

The grin Raphael had spread across his face looked cynical at best. "No," he said flatly. "He's probably Theresa's stalker, I don't gotta be nice to this _trash_."

A lot of things happened all at once. Corbin, who had been wondering why Raphael was so hostile towards him, realized that the reason was because the turtle thought he was a homicidal-stalking-rapist. Anger flared in his veins immediately, and when he advanced- the time for exchanging words far past- Raphael's smile spread wider and his fists raised in an almost inviting manner.

'_He's trying to bait you into a fight,'_ a voice inside his head told him (his conscience had the same tone as his Mother had possessed when she'd been alive), and Corbin found that he didn't care much if it was only bait. All he wanted to do was hit the big smart-mouthed turtle.

Leonardo was quick to stand between them, palms flat on each of their chests, and Corbin struggled to maneuver himself around the large hand, his eyes zeroed in on Raphael. Leo's hand fisted into Corbin's shirt and held him in place, the leaders own steady gaze not on Corbin, but on his brother.

Raphael was not struggling, nor was he showing any signs of an attempt to attack Corbin. He'd even lowed his fists. His face still had that same smile on it, obviously one that was there in complete sarcasm.

'_Laugh to keep from cryin, smile to keep from killing. Doesn't the saying go something like that?'_ Corbin thought in a disconnected way, knowing that the smile on Raphael's face had nothing to do with any kind of real humor.

"So Slim Shady _does_ think he can take me," Raphael said darkly, and it was then that Corbin noticed that his hand were no longer in fists because they were on the handles of his sia's.

Leo looked at his brother intensely. "You need to calm down," he said, his voice firm, and for a moment Corbin thought he was going to die. He thought that he was glad his Mother had only lived through his juvenile delinquent years- that she hadn't survived the Cancer to see him become a full blown criminal. And he was glad that he'd been in love once, a long time ago, to a girl he'd been too stupid to hang onto.

Then Raphael relaxed and removed his large, lethal hands from the handles of his sia's. Corbin felt a great rush of thankfulness that Leonardo had been around to prevent what could likely have been Corbin's own death.

"I'm not her stalker," Corbin croaked, teeth barred at Raphael in a feral manner.

"We'll see," Raphael said flippantly, shrugging, and he walked past the small group and exited the dojo. April marched after him, letting the door slam behind her, and Corbin stumbled slightly when Leonardo let go of his shirt.

"He was going to kill me," Corbin said, mouth slightly ajar.

Leo shook his head. "He wouldn't do that… He's just… anxious to catch whoever is behind all this."

But Corbin wasn't so sure, and even later, when he was alone and able to think on what had happened with a clear head, he couldn't get the memory of April telling him that Raphael could get so angry he'd "see black." Nor could he vanquish the image of Raphael, hands held securely on the hilts of his sia's, out of his mind.

_**xxx**_

"April said you almost killed Corbin today," Theresa said nonchalantly, never wavering in her slicing of mushrooms. It was only a few hours later, and they were both back at her apartment now. She and Raphael were in the kitchen, making a dinner of Lasagna together, and on the oven ground beef was frying and noodles were boiling. Thor lounged lazily on the couch, ignoring the couple entirely. Raphael wore no bandanna or pads, and his belt and sia's had been thrown casually over a kitchen chair. He stood at the counter next to her with his own cutting board, slicing the onion Theresa had insisted he cut after trying it herself and crying because of its potency.

Raphael's lips twitched. "April was over exaggerating. I was just testin' him."

Theresa looked over at him, her brows raised. "Testing him? Raph, he's not my stalker."

"… Yeah… I don't think so either."

Theresa laughed lightly. "You're nuts," she said, and they stayed in companionable silence for a few moments before Theresa added softly, "I heard you and April talking."

Raphael had been expecting this, so he was not surprised.

"Okay," he said, waiting for her to continue.

"… You don't have to introduce me to Splinter, Raph. It's not important."

Her voice was light, and if Raphael had been any other person, any other guy, he might have believed her. But he knew from the offhand tone of her voice that it _did_ matter to her, probably a lot more than she herself even knew.

But he let himself hear her lie and accept it, and not wanting to go into a long conversation about exactly why he didn't want her meeting his Father, and hurting her feelings in the process. So he said nothing, and after a long moment Theresa realized he was not going to comment and continued to slice.

They were quiet, the long pregnated silence uncomfortable now, and Theresa shifted her feet in distress.

"How can you cut that?" she finally asked, breaking the silence and nodding to the onion that Raphael was now scraping into a bowl.

"With a knife," Raphael deadpanned, and Theresa rolled her eyes and grinned, happy to ease the tension between them, happy to have a change of subject.

"Ha-ha. I mean how can you cut that and not cry?"

Raphael grunted and set the bowl to the side. "Because I'm a man," he told her, and he scrubbed his hands fiercely under hot water from the sink to get any onion residue off of them.

Theresa bit her lip and set her knife down. "Are you now?" she asked teasingly, and Raphael cut his eyes to her.

A look passed between them, and Raphael turned off the water and dried his hands thoroughly, an eye ridge arched high. Theresa turned to face him, her lips twitching, and Raphael took a step towards her.

"You don't think I'm a man?" he asked, and his voice was low. His eyes darkened as he looked at her intently, and Theresa felt her toes curl involuntarily at the gaze he was now casting her way.

"Hmmm… I don't think I remember. You _look_ like a turtle."

Raphael grinned and shook his head, laughing briefly and casting his eyes upwards, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Don't remember," he repeated, and he took another, closer step towards her.

Theresa pursed her lips to the side, her eyes dancing with laughter. "Remind me?" she asked, and Raphael's grin grew wider.

"I dunno," he began, and by this point they were almost touching he'd moved so close to her. "I mean, if I remind you, I'm gonna have to do it so you never forget it again."

Theresa bit her lip and backed up so that her shoulders were now pressed firmly against the wall. "That's probably for the best. You see, I have this horrible memory."

Raphael took the step forward that closed the space between them, their bodies barely touching. "Horrible memory?" he asked, and his fingertips ran lightly over her bare arms.

Theresa nodded and licked her lips, noticing with delight the way Raphael's eyes honed in on them. "Yeah, a _really_ bad memory. And if you just fuck me-," Raphael groaned and let his head drop so that his chin touched his chest.

"If you just fuck me," Theresa continued, "really hard, I bet I'll never forget again."

"Jesus," Raphael muttered, and he was gripping her arms now. He let his head rise and looked at her. "Where the _hell_ did that come from?" He looked at her in lustful astonishment for only a moment before his hands were at her hips, tugging at the shorts she was wearing impatiently.

"I just really want you," Theresa replied on a moan, and she rose on the tips of her toes and let her lips crash against his mouth.

He returned the kiss with fervor, finally able to push her denim shorts, along with her silken underwear, off her hips so that they fell around her ankles. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she kicked the clothing to the side, hooking a leg around his calf and letting her tongue intertwine with his own. Raphael felt along the hem of her tank top, his hands wandering under it and over the material of her bra before his left hand went between them. He pressed his palm flat against her center, and he breathed in a deep grunt of surprise to feel her already wet.

"Jesus," he repeated against her lips, and Theresa arched herself into his fingers, thick and deep inside of her.

"I told you I wanted you," she panted. She attached her lips to his neck, and Raphael took a moment to let his eyes close and enjoy the feel of her lips against his skin, the feel of her slick wetness around his digits. In that moment he exhaled, and with his release of breath he also released his erect member from between his legs. He removed his hand and gripped her thighs securely. He pulled her up off the ground, bringing her down hard, burying himself inside of her.

She shouted his name as he immediately began to pump into her, his rhythm steady, his lips smothering her cries of pleasure with a heated kiss. His hands held onto her thighs firmly, lifting her up, his biceps flexing powerfully as he did so, and then bringing her sharply back down, her back sliding down the wall each time.

"Harder!" she urged, her hands now gripping his carapace, her breathing erratic.

He obliged, using the wall to his advantage and pushing himself as deep and as hard into her as he could. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered seeing her stretch before a walk the day before, and knew that she was flexible. With that knowledge he lifted her left leg high and let it drape over his shoulder, his hand clutching her buttocks and mouth closing over her earlobe as he filled her entirely.

Her words were a jumble of incoherency now, and Raphael felt his head spin and his ears roar as he sensed his release building inside of him. He held it back though, gritting his teeth, knowing she was close.

Raphael let a hand go between them as he pumped, never slowing his pace, and worked his thumb over her clitoris in a circular motion. It was enough to send her barreling over the edge and with a shrill scream of ecstasy. Her walls tightened around him as she came in crashing waves, and Raphael let himself release deep inside of her, his teeth biting into her shoulder to keep from calling out just as vociferously as Theresa was.

He slowed to a stop, panting heavily. "Jesus," he said breathlessly for the third time, and he let her leg drop from his shoulder and sat her gently on her feet. She swayed, her body flushed and trembling, and Raphael held her close to him, resting his forehead on the wall behind her. Theresa clung to his neck and laid her head on his shoulder.

She smiled slowly and said, "Oh yeah… I remember now."

Raphael snorted but did not move. "You think you're funny," he mumbled, still feeling dizzy and lethargic.

She opened her mouth to answer when there was a sharp hiss that was the water on the stove boiling over, interrupting her snarky reply.

"Oh shit!" Theresa exclaimed, pushing away from Raphael and going to the oven. He watched her as she lifted the pot off the burner, naked from the waist down, and he thought to himself, _'I could get used to this cooking thing.' _

Theresa looked over to him and grinned, almost as if she were reading his mind.

"Don't expect this to happen every time you cut an onion."

_**xxx**_

He punched the wall in frustration- _hard_- because Christ, what else was there really for him to do? All this time and Theresa was so close to him, so completely reachable, and yet she was somehow guarded like a _fucking fortress._

He'd seen her last week, walking that fucking dog that was going to put a serious cramp in his plans, and he'd know somehow that it was a trap. He'd known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was impossible to take her then. And he'd been right. He'd been itching to emerge from his excellent hiding spot and take her right there on the side of the street. To push her against the brick building and bury himself inside of her. But something-intuition perhaps- had made him stop short.

When Theresa had stopped to let that disgusting beast shit on the sidewalk; she'd been talking to someone, someone in the shadow of the building that refused to be seen. She'd looked up at the rooftops while she'd been on the phone, and he knew that whoever was there was the one protecting her. Someone who was aware that being unseen was the best way to catch a person off their guard. Someone who was quick, too quick to ever catch a glimpse of, and was agile and intelligent. Someone who was tailing Theresa in a way that made it completely impossible for him to get to her.

Him and that _fucking dog. _

He hated dogs, and he especially hated this particular one. Big drooling overprotective beast, there at Theresa's side. Guarding her, keeping her safe.

He grimaced and tugged violently at his hair. The _plan_. The plan had always been to corner Theresa when she least expected it, but how could he do that when she had someone following her all the time? How could he have her when it was obvious that someone else was already on to him, was ready for any move he might make? It made him edgy, just thinking that Theresa's savior, always hidden in the shadows, could reach out and snap his neck at any moment.

…That was assuming that this light in Theresa's darkness would be _able_ to snap his neck. He was, all things considered, quite strong. But still, it bothered him not to know certain elements of his own game. This man Theresa had brought into her life (or was it two? It had been two voices- Michelangelo and Raphael- on the phone), was ruining everything. And quitting, giving up when he was so far into the game, was out of the question. It was absolutely necessary that he have Theresa. That her blood spilled over his hands. That her body quaked and shook beneath his own. And now it seemed so impossible, between the protection this man provided and that _fucking_ St. Bernard…

…Or maybe not? Something stuck with him, something that made his heart skip a beat at the possibilities it presented.

The dog…

Theresa was out and about more than usual lately, and it was because of that ridiculous dog. Walking it, he reflected, had her out of her apartment more than ever before. And could this man that was trying to protect her, could he be with her _all_ the time? What if, after a few more weeks- a month even- there were no more signs of Theresa's stalker? Would her protector still follow her with such vigilance then? Would his security become more lax? Would he even still be around?

He looked down at his hand, smiled at the thin trickle of blood that ran between his knuckles from punching the wall. Blood was so addictive, so attractive. It made him hard just seeing the red wetness, made his stomach flutter in perverted anticipation. He'd been hunting Theresa's now for almost a year. A year was about to come and go, and she'd only recently learned that someone was following her. So he could wait. He could wait one more month.

And then she'd be his, and damn the fucking dog. Who ever said bullets couldn't kill a St. Bernard?

_**xxx**_

**_Authors Note:_** …. I have the next FOUR chapters finished. It was originally only two chapters, but they were so long that I split them up. Chapter 19 will be here very soon. It's already downloaded onto my account and everything (grins evilly). Probably this weekend…. :)

A BIG thank to all who review, as always. And a special thanks to Lola, for being the most awesome lady ever!


	19. Chapter Nineteen, The Past and Future

_Disclaimer:__ I don't own the turtles. :(_

_**xxx**_

_**Chapter Nineteen: The Past and the Future**_

"…Mike… Mikey?"

Michelangelo heard the familiar voice and groaned.

"Mike, wake up for a second."

For a moment he thought about ignoring her, but he knew that if he did she'd only persist. She wasn't one to give up, and she'd badger him until he answered her. Mikey yawned widely. His eye lids slid open cautiously, the bright blue of them enhanced by the bloodshot of his eyes. He mumbled something, aware that he was probably making no sense whatsoever, and he heard a light feminine voice say, "Huh?"

"I said what?" he grumbled, his voice rasping severely, as though it's been put through a grater.

"… It sounded like you said fuck off."

He laughed a little through his nose at that, but there was no smile on his face, no real humor behind the automatic gesture.

"Mike… what time did you get in?"

He yawned again, noticing through the blur of his vision that it seemed to be dark still. One of his large hands rubbed over his face in a vain attempt to focus.

"Dunno, what time is it?" he asked sleepily.

"It's four o' clock in the morning."

Michelangelo groaned and buried his head into his pillow. "Jesus, an hour ago. Leave me alone Amy, I've got a headache the size of a fucking planet."

Amy smacked his arm then, hard, and Mikey lifted his head to glare at her.

Amy glared back.

"Mike, I love you to death, you know I do, but you're telling me what going on, _**now**_."

Her voice was severe, and Michelangelo knew that unless he gave her a satisfactory answer, maybe even half the truth thrown in there, he wouldn't be getting any sleep.

"Dunno what your talking 'bout," he said anyway, hoping against hope that she'd just give up and walk away.

"Nuh-uh, you jerk. You've been crashing on my couch for over a month now. Either spill or I'm calling Leo."

'_Yeah right_,' Mikey thought, but he humored her anyway.

"I'm just dulling my pain," he said, closing his eyes and hoping that this was enough in way of an answer.

"Mike, you reek of pot and booze. Trust me, I know that smell, and I'm not going to lecture you on it. But Mike… Mikey you aren't doing anything else…are you?"

What he wanted to say, what he wanted to stand up and scream at her, was; _'Of course I'm doing something else you twit! I'll do whatever the fuck I can get my hands on! What the hell would you do if you found out that the girl you murdered for, the girl who died in your arms, was fucking your brother?' _

But he clenched his jaw and said, "No, Amy. Nothing else."

His pulse quickened with the lie. Nothing else? Marlboro Reds were the vice of choice, and he'd worked his way up to a pack a day. He'd been smoking pot pretty regularly now, and Jack Daniels or cheap gin were his new best friends. But the rest of it? The Acid and the Shrooms? Those came periodically, whenever he was lucky enough to score them. There had been a moment when he'd been offered heroin, but he drew the line at injecting anything into him with a syringe. Besides, he'd heard that once you started doing that, you were addicted for life.

"I don't believe you," Amy said on a sigh.

"Then don't ask."

There was a pause between them, and Mikey felt himself falling back into a deep slumber.

"What else do you do, beside drink and smoke yourself into oblivion, that keeps you out so late?"

Michelangelo peered at her, clearly annoyed. The truth was impossible to reveal.

'_I'm keeping track of Theresa. I sit on the roof of her building and get drunk, waiting for that fuck to show himself so I can break his fucking neck. I sit there and think about Jade and Donny, and I think about how I could probably break Don- the traitors- neck too. And then I hear Theresa's voice, carried through her open window, and I think that if I wasn't so fucked up maybe she'd want me, not my stupid fucking brother that can't even accept he's in love with the girl. And I think that when I find that piece of shit that's trying to ruin her life, I'll kill him slowly, just like Parker McCoy.' _

Michelangelo said none of this. "I just sit on a roof, any roof, and wait till it's late. Then I come back here. That's it Amy. Don't worry about me."

Amy face pinched into tight scrutiny. "I don't believe you," she repeated once more, and Mikey found that he didn't care.

"I don't care," he voiced, and Amy looked sadly down at him.

"Please… don't get yourself hurt Mike… I'm _always_ here if you need to talk."

She left then, shuffling back to her room, and Mikey sighed and closed his eyes. The idea of talking seemed funny to him, like a really bad joke that never ended.

He just wanted to kill. Kill that fuck that was stalking Theresa and get this over with.

Then he'd be done.

He could just stop caring about anything. He could drop off the face of the planet if he wanted to. He wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore, just drinking himself into oblivion, like Amy had said.

Then he'd give up.

And that sounded blissful.

_**xxx**_

"It's been a month… how's it going with Raph?"

Theresa blanched and looked at April, holding a large photo album that she'd just pulled from a box. One month. Theresa couldn't believe that one entire month had gone by. It seemed surreal, completely unbelievable. Somehow, the time she'd spent with Raphael, living with him, making love to him, talking to him, seemed so much shorter than a month. And yet it was October 10th, and Theresa was aware that the new season, the ushering in of fall, meant that she had put off the conversation she'd been meaning to have with Raphael for much to long.

Theresa's shoulders slumped slightly. "It's… not very progressive, I guess," she said in a dejected tone. "I keep meaning to talk to him, and then I get… distracted."

April raised a brow. The two women were unpacking in April and Casey's new home. The couple had been in the Victorian style house for going on three weeks now, and unpacking was still underway. Theresa liked to help, and in the three weeks that April and Casey spent moving back to the city the two women had become fast friends. They were in April's living room, and the red head took the photo album from Theresa's hands and placed it on a tall book shelf that was against the wall.

"How do you get distracted?" she asked.

Theresa bit her lip. "I don't know. I'll tell myself I need to talk to him, and then we end up having a really good time together, or he's in such a good mood that I don't want to ruin it. And then we have sex and I think afterwards, _'I'll tell him soon,'_ but I don't."

April gave a quiet laugh and sat more books on the shelf, organizing them by author.

"I think you're just afraid that he'll end it," April said, separating Stephen King's _Desperation_ from Orson Scott Card's _Ender's Game_. Theresa noticed that each time she touched a book her eyes lingered on its title lovingly. Theresa could relate, she loved books with the same passion; it was something they had in common.

Theresa sighed. "I am worried about that… It's just, I _know_ how he really feels; I _know_ he wants us to be together. But he's… he's afraid that I'll hurt him… like that other girl." She shuffled her feet and dug more books out of the box in front of her. "I just feel like talking about it, bringing it up, will give him his excuse to leave."

April snorted. "_Leave_? He can't leave you. Besides the fact that I don't think he could, your stalker is still out there, Theresa. He wouldn't put you in harms way like that."

Theresa huffed and handed _Persuasion_ by Jane Austin to April. "That's like a slap in the face," Theresa told her, "It's like he'd be saying, _'I don't want to be with you, but I'll stay here to protect you.' _That sucks. No woman wants to hear her knight in shinning armor say that to her."

April laughed at this and turned to face the woman opposite her. Theresa was seven years younger, but they still had a connection that had made them have an easy going relationship. It felt normal that they would talk together so openly, and it surprised April sometimes how close she felt to this girl who had obviously taken a strong hold on Raphael's heart. And even though she still couldn't convince Raphael to let Theresa meet Splinter, even though he refused point blank to steer the relationship into what would certainly be more permanent territory, April had faith that Raphael would pull through. She believed in him, and she clung to the hope that he would see just how important  
Theresa truly was to him.

"Please just talk to him," April told Theresa. "I know it sounds crazy but…. Raphael _needs_ you to do this. He needs to hear that you're angry with him for thinking you're anything like Mia. He wants to hear that you say that you're not going to do what she did to him, that you aren't a heartless bitch. That way he can leave you-"

"Leave me!" Theresa cut in, a lot of color leaving her cheeks.

"Let me finish," April said, holding out a finger. "That way he can leave you, realize that you are the most important thing that's _ever happened to him_, and come back. Trust me when I say, it's what he needs to do. It's the way he works. It's the way love works!

"Haven't you heard if you loose it and it comes back then it's meant to be?" She asked, and then continued without waiting for an answer. "Same premise here Theresa. You're right, he _loves_ you, and he _wants to be with you_. But he's a big baby about this whole love thing. If he looses you, even if it's only for a few hours, it'll make him realize that what he has with you is more important than his insecurities. Here… sit down."

April gestured to the couch, and Theresa side stepped the other boxes (full of books) and took a seat on the very traditional floral sofa April had placed in her living room, reminding Theresa of something that she might see in an old country home. April sat close to her and took a deep breath, obviously preparing herself.

"Listen," she began, "I know I shouldn't be the one to tell you this, but what the hell. …Raphael and Mia… they were a pretty cute couple. I know that's not what you want to hear, but give me a second. They were really happy, for awhile anyway. It was the first time Raph had ever started a relationship with someone without saving their life first. He saw her late at night. She was walking by herself and… and he said she looked sad. Lonely. I think it was code for, _'she looked really hot and she was by herself.'"_

Theresa gave a weak laugh and shifted uncomfortably, not quite sure how she felt about April being the one who told her this story.

April continued, "He went and talked to her. He was in disguise- you've seen the old Bogey trench coat and fedora- and… and the way Mia told it, he made her laugh, made her feel _safe_. He made sure she got home unscathed, and then he disappeared. She loved telling that story," April wrinkled her nose at the memory, "…A lot. Anyway, he started showing up more, and he eventually revealed his identity. She freaked out, she got over it, and they fell in love. Blah, blah, blah. Raph was… happy. It was like an episode out of the twilight zone, you have _no_ _idea_. We were all used to Raph being really moody and hot tempered, but he was better. He was still Raph, you know, still sarcastic and quick to jump into a fight, but… I don't know, it was different. He was calmer, somehow.

"Anyway, it took Raph almost a year to bring Mia around and introduce her to all of us, and that's when we all got to know her."

April paused and looked at Theresa. Her brow raised and her lips turned into a slight smile. Theresa bit her nails and looked bewildered. "What? Was she horrible?"

April laughed. "She was the worst. She just seemed so… _fake_. She was nice enough but… I never trusted her. And Leo couldn't stand her. We all acted like we got along, and for her credit she tried to fit in… but I think Raph knew we didn't like her. After he first introduced her to us he tried to make her fit into the click, but it didn't take long until he sort of realized that no one had much to say to her, and he stopped bringing her around so much. We never said anything to him about her, and he never confronted us about it, but we all just knew. We were never mean to her but… She was really preppy and obnoxious, and sometimes she would say things and it would irritate the hell out of me and Leo. And we knew. We _knew_ she was going to break his heart."

April's eyes were clouded in some kind of memory, and she laughed and said, "Mike used to play this game with her. He'd tell her these crazy stories and see how many he could get her to believe."

Theresa's brows knit together. "You make her sound… stupid. How could Raph fall in love with someone like that?"

April shook her head. "No idea. I think... I think it had a lot to do with self esteem. He didn't think he was smart or witty… I'm not sure what he thinks about himself now. He just… I think he saw in Mia what he wanted to see. He didn't want to see her flaws, and he didn't want to think about the possibility that she wasn't right for him."

Theresa grimaced. "So she broke his heart?"

April looked sad when she nodded and said, "Yeah. Two weeks before Christmas… She was told him she wanted a family."

There was silence, and Theresa thought about how that must have hurt Raphael.

"She knew it wasn't possible as long as she was with Raph, and it always bothered me that she would talk about it so much. She always used to say how much she wanted kids, and I'd think, _'then why do you keep stringing Raph along?'_"

They sat quiet for a moment. Theresa thought about all the ways Raphael kept her at arms length, and hearing the details of Mia and his relationship made her understand his resistance more than she had before.

"What… what do you think made her finally break up with him?" Theresa asked, breaking the silence.

April grinned. "Well… Amy. I mean, not _just_ Amy but… probably a big part of it was her."

Theresa looked shocked, and April momentarily delighted in the surprise on her face.

"Amy?" She sputtered. "_Our_ Amy? What did she do?"

April laughed. "That's the best part of it. She didn't do anything! You see, I had just gotten married, which didn't help Mia in the whole wanting a family department. Then, after I moved, Donny met Amy. He brought her around a lot, and out of all the guys, it was Raph she hit it off with the most. Jade was always hanging around Mikey and Donny… which in reflection I guess should have been a sign that something was brewing in that area. Jade just wasn't as close to Raph as she was with the rest of us. But Raph and Amy? They were friends, and the more Raphael talked to her, the more he realized that Mia was… stupid."

Theresa couldn't help it, she laughed.

April grinned and continued, "It was like bringing someone new into the circle helped him see what Mia was really like. But he still loved her! He still had these feeling for her that I will _never_ understand. But now, it was with the knowledge that Mia wasn't what he originally though she Mia hated Amy because, well… Amy is Amy. She says what she thinks, and she said more or less that she thought Mia was an idiot. Mia was intimidated by her. Amy is smart and funny and has a lot of opinions and Mia… she wasn't like that. So… she left Raphael. It was her out."

Theresa groaned and let her head fall into her hands. "I don't want Raphael to think I'm an idiot."

April laughed, loud this time. "An idiot?! Ha! Theresa, you are one of the smartest people I know. You are as far from an idiot as we are from hitting the lottery. He doesn't think that about you, that's not why he's so resistant. He's just… he's afraid of getting hurt and he thinks you deserve better than him."

Theresa sat straight and nodded. "I know, but that's stupid. Shouldn't _**I**_ get to decide whose good enough for me?"

The question wasn't one that needed answered. There was a beat of silence until Theresa looked at the older woman next to her. "So… talked to Leo lately?" she asked.

April visibly cringed. "Not really… we've been avoiding each other."

Whenever April and Leo were in a room together, it became so silent Theresa could swear there were crickets. They were overly polite to one another, and they never were outwardly rude, but it was easy to see that there was tension between them.

"Leo is mad at me still, and I don't know how to fix this. I never knew he was so angry with me and… and I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I did sort of abandon them… not on purpose but…Oh, that sort of makes it worse! That makes it sound like I abandoned them on _accident_." April made a face and asked, "Can you even do that? Is it even possible to abandon someone on accident?"

Theresa put an arm over April's shoulder when she noticed the older woman's eyes were swimming with tears. "You didn't abandon them, April. You were preoccupied. You were a newly wed, and you were in a new area, in a somewhat new house. … How _is_ selling the house going, by the way?"

April looked at her, miserable, "Nice change of topic," she said, wiping her eyes and taking a steadying breath. "And selling the house is going crappy. The real estate market sucks right now. …But it's ok. I have savings; Casey's got a great new job. We can afford the upkeep on the farm house until it gets sold. I mean, it's already paid for. And I've been thinking, maybe we should keep it, like as a vacation spot…"

Theresa knew April and Casey didn't really want to do that. Keeping the farm house meant spending more money and time out of the city than they really wanted to. And after her talk with Leo, it seemed April had no interest in leaving the city.

April sighed. "Casey and I have to go up there today. There's an antique end-table that I left there, and I'm thinking it would be perfect in this room, right over there by the TV." She looked at Theresa and smiled. "Are you busy today? You want to come?"

Theresa thought about her plans for the weekend. It was Saturday, and there hadn't been anything more planned than hanging out with April. Raphael was in the lair with his brothers, and Casey was currently upstairs putting together the new bed frame April had picked out for them the day before. That Raphael or one of the other turtles wasn't around to keep an eye on Theresa didn't bother or surprise her at all. Casey was massive, towering over her and April like a skyscraper. She felt safe with him, and apparently Raphael felt the same way. He did call her a lot when she was with them though, and Theresa thought it was more out of a sense of responsibility, to make sure she was safe, than a real felling that he missed her or was worried about her.

"Yeah, I'll go with you. Is it ok if Thor rides in your car?"

No matter where Theresa went, she almost always had Thor with her. He made her feel safe, and Raphael even said that it was a good idea. _'Added protection,'_ he'd told her. The St. Bernard was currently in April's fenced in back yard, barking at birds, and he had taken an instant liking to April and the baby growing inside of her.

"Thor can ride in the back seat… you have to let me sit back there with him though."

_**xxx**_

"So, how's Mikey?"

The question was asked by Raphael to Amy, and the girl smiled at him and sat at the kitchen table. Leo and Donny were there to, and they all looked at her, awaiting an answer.

"Mike is fine. He doesn't say hello but, you kind of expected that, right?"

They nodded into the silence, and Raphael thought of how long he'd spent without seeing his baby brother, the longest any of them had gone without seeing his face. It had been over a month, and they'd heard not a word from him. It had been in that second week after their youngest brothers disappearing act that Leo had begun to completely loose it, in Raphael's opinion. The leader, in his panic over Michelangelo's whereabouts, was angry with all of them, demanding that they spend all of their efforts finding their youngest brother. Thank God Amy had intervened.

"_Listen, he's with me. He's been crashing on my couch. Just let him be,"_ she'd told them, and that had been a relief.

But it stung that Mikey didn't want to talk to any of them, and Raphael was particularly hurt that his brother hadn't looked for solace in Theresa's apartment.

Raphael groaned inwardly and gave himself a hard mental kick. Even when he referred to it as _Theresa's apartment,_ it still felt like he was saying _home_. And it had been that way for a while now. When he came to the lair, damned if it didn't feel like he was visiting. And when he returned to Theresa's apartment, damned if that didn't feel like home. He'd catch himself saying things like, "our room," or "our dog," which was funny, because Thor really did feel like he was half Raphael's. It was like they each shared a part in the massive dogs love, and the responsibility it took to care for him.

And Raphael knew where things in the apartment were, were dishes and cups and pots and pans in the kitchen were located. He knew which shelf the good towels went on in the hall closet, and that under the bathroom sink was where the _Clorox_ was kept. He did laundry and loaded the dish washer and helped Theresa make the bed every morning. He was becoming… _domesticated_.

Raphael cringed. Even his brothers were noticing the change, and Leo had confronted him about it a week ago. He'd asked; "Are you and Theresa… living together now?" And Raphael had responded, "I'm just there till we catch the stalker."

But the thought of actually catching the stalker and then leaving Theresa seemed foreign and frightening all at once. He didn't want to leave, and that made him uncomfortable as hell. Because as far as Raphael was concerned, this was _not_ permanent.

"So, moving on. I think that it's really suspicious that there's been no activity from Theresa's stalker."

Donny was talking to him, and Raphael felt a relief in looking at his brother and seeing that he was completely healed. The swelling in Donny's eye had taken so long to go down that Raph had almost expected to see the bruised discoloring every time he looked at his genius brother. Donatello, though healed, still skirted around the topic of what had transpired to cause his battered and bruised body, and only let himself hear that Michelangelo was safe before he hastily changed the subject. It was almost as if Donatello thought that mere mention of his younger brothers' name would bring him back to the lair, seeking retribution.

Leo nodded, "I agree. This seems like a trap, like he's waiting Theresa out."

Raphael agreed too. In this last month there had been nothing but silence on the stalkers behalf, and that was more ominous than anything. And even though the cameras were now permanently turned off inside of Theresa's apartment, the seven that surrounded the outside of her home were still turned on. Donatello studied them religiously (catching the stalker seemed to have taken top priority for him since Theresa had suffered her breakdown in his arms over a month ago), and nothing was out of the ordinary. The alley between Theresa's complex and the neighboring pawn shop was rarely used, and no one suspicious had been spotted on camera since the day Corbin and Tommy had been taken to the lair.

"Theresa tried to talk to Justin Hunt, at her law office, but he didn't give anything away," Raphael told them.

"You still think it's him?" Amy asked, folding her arms and tipping back in her chair.

Raph shrugged. "I dunno who it is. I think it's kind of convenient that everything's just stopped in the last month, and Tommy and Corbin have both been down here that whole time. And Justin seems… too obvious."

Leonardo rolled his eyes. "This isn't a movie Raph. Just because someone seems too obvious doesn't mean that it's not them. Justin fits the profile. When I was at Theresa's office last week I got a good look at all her co-workers."

Leonardo had also been helping Raphael with the stalker situation more than normal lately, and Raph knew it was because Leo wanted him to hurry and end it with Theresa. Not because he didn't like her, but because he liked her enough that he didn't want to see her hurt when Raphael _did_ leave her.

"Justin is athletic, he's smart, and he seems pretty cut throat. I listened in while he was with a client. He was talking a lot of BS, except I don't think he was running his mouth, I think he meant everything he said. Plus, Theresa said he's come on to her before. And the night she was attacked he was the last one to leave the office before her."

Raphael pursed his lips. "What about Ethan Shempski? And Lawrence Shade? Did you get anything on them?"

Leo rested his hands on the table. "Yeah, I listened in on them too. Ethan was doing paper work. I went through his office but there wasn't much there. A letter from his Mom- she lives in Florida, a calendar he uses for court dates. And Lawrence Shade is out completely. There's no way he's the stalker. He's pretty athletic for his age, but he's almost sixty five. He's shorter than Theresa, and there's no way he could out run her, he's a smoker."

Raphael perked at this. "Smoker? There were cigarette butts outside of Theresa's window, on her fire escape."

Donny made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat. "Yeah but… Theresa's stalker is going to be a young smoker. Someone who can light up and still be in relatively good shape. Lawrence Shade has probably been smoking for years, there's no way he's fit enough to run Theresa down and not have an asthma attack. Anyone else in the office smoke?"

Leo shrugged, "Not that I could tell. No cigarette packs anywhere else. The gun you said Justin had wasn't in his desk though, and no one else had anything important in their desk either… Although, Ethan did keep a pretty pricey bottle of bourbon in his bottom drawer, and Justin had a flask."

Raphael laughed at that. "Theresa has brandy in her bottom drawer. I think they all drink on the job."

Amy snorted, "That's healthy. Who else was on the list Theresa made?"

Raphael sat forward and put his elbows on the table. Something was nagging at him, there in the back of his mind, and he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. "Eh, no one I really suspect. One of her clients, Romeo. But… I don't know. He's across town and lives with his wife. He called Theresa two weeks ago to check in on her. His wife and her are friends…"

"Doesn't he have a twin brother who's on the run?" Amy asked, referring to Demetrius, who had robbed a bank at gun point and let his brother take the fall.

"He's not on the run anymore. Police caught him last week. An off duty cop was in the convenience store he was trying to rob. They've got him locked up for Aggravated Burglary, Attempted Robbery, and Felonious Assault. Theresa's… representing him." Raphael cringed at this, knowing that the only reason Theresa was taking the case was because Demetrius was Romeo's brother.

"That leaves Corbin and Tommy," Donny put in.

All eyes went to Leonardo, whose jaw set in defiance. "Listen," he began, "I don't know about Tommy, but that would be really messed up if it was Theresa's _brother_ who was trying to rape and kill her. He's an idiot, but I don't think he's _that_ kind of idiot. And as for Corbin? We've been over this. He's not the stalker. Period."

Raphael sighed heavily. "Yeah… I don't think it's them either. I still fucking hate Tommy though."

Leo's lips twitched. "And Corbin?"

Raphael scowled. "Fuck that guy," he said, but there was no real menace in his tone, and Leonardo knew that finally, after a month of harassing the man, Raphael had relinquished his suspicions of Corbin completely.

There was consensus in that statement about Tommy though. Even Donny, who they had told about Tommy's intentions to leave the lair and go to Benito, nodded in agreement. Tommy was ready and willing to rat them out to Parker McCoy's brother, and it turned Donatello's stomach to know that Tommy didn't care that the man had raped and killed Jade before he'd died, only that he could gain amnesty by turning over Parkers killer.

There was a buzzing, and they all looked at their cell phones before Raphael pulled his out and said, "It's mine."

He flipped open the phone and saw it was a text.

"Its Theresa, she's going to the farm with April and Casey."

There was silence as he texted her back, thanking her for the heads up and telling her to be safe. Then he texted Casey, threatening him about his driving, remembering his friends lead foot.

"You still fighting with April?"

Raphael's head jerked up when he heard Amy's question, which had obviously been directed towards Leonardo.

Leo scowled. "… I'm not fighting with her."

Amy grinned and tipped her chair back farther, teetering in a way that made Raphael sure she would loose balance and fall on her ass.

"Not talking and fighting is pretty much the same thing Leo. Why don't you cut her some slack?"

Leonardo's eyes flashed. "Some slack? Amy, I've seen her five times in two years."

"Six," Donatello corrected, and Leo retorted "A funeral doesn't count, _five_."

Donny grimaced but didn't disagree.

Amy tipped even farther back and the chair wobbled but did not fall. "She's moving back Leo, she's trying to make amends," she said, popping her gun and wiggling unsteadily on the two legs of her seat.

Leo then did something that Raphael was sure he'd only seen him do a handful of times. He snorted. It was a sound of complete disgust and disbelief and contempt, and it even wiped the grin off Amy's face.

"She's _trying_? Amy, what if I don't care? What if I don't want to be a part of her life anymore?"

Raphael couldn't help it, his eyes widened. "You don't mean that," he said.

Leo's disdain, so clearly written on his face, evaporated for a moment. "No… No I don't mean it," he said, and then his face contorted in anger once more. "But I can't help how I feel about this right now. She abandoned us Raph. You know she did. You didn't get excited about her being pregnant until she told you she was moving back to the city. And I don't blame you. Because why would you be happy if she's having a baby you'll never get to see? You weren't out of your chair and swinging her around until you knew you'd get to be a part of the kids' life."

When Raphael had been younger, this was one of the things he'd hated about his older brother. Because when Leo was right, he was right, and there was no denying it. April pregnant and at the farm house meant never seeing her child, never getting to know the new O'Neil-Jones she'd be bringing into the world. But as soon as Raphael had heard she was moving back to the city, it had been a whole different story. As long as April and Casey were here, he'd get to see their child grow up.

"That's true," Raph conceded. "But I'm not throwing away nine years of friendship because April got married, moved away, and didn't keep in touch."

The internal struggle that Leonardo seemed to be having was clearly written on his face; forgive April, or hold onto the anger that was so prevalent inside of him.

"She abandoned us," he said to them, almost as if it were his last effort to try to make them understand.

Donny frowned. "Leo… she didn't mean to do it… its like when you know you need to do something, and it's really important, but you keep putting it off. And finally so much time has gone by you don't even know how to address it. She felt guilty, but she didn't know what to do."

Leonardo grimaced. "So she ditched us on _accident_? We were an obligation that she kept putting off? Donny, that doesn't make me feel better."

Donatello opened his mouth to reply, but they were cut off when there was a loud creak and Amy cursed and went flying backwards. Raphael, expecting this long before it had happened, caught her by the shoulder before her head slammed on the ground. He pulled her to her feet and stood, picking up the chair and snarling at her.

"Now, when I was eight I learned _not_ to do that," he said, and Amy grinned at him until he rolled his eyes and let go of her arm.

"Thanks for the save, Raphie," she said, sitting down in her chair and immediately tipping back in it again (although this time it was certainly with less zeal, the almost accident had caused the wind to temporarily get knocked out of her lungs).

The talk was over though, and Leo was on his feet and moving to the dojo.

"I'll go back to the law firm tonight," he was saying over his shoulder, "see if I can't dig anything else up on her co-workers."

Donny sighed when Leo disappear behind the door, then he stood as well. "I'm going to go look at the tapes…. Not that I think it will do any good. All those cameras are filming is the empty alley by Theresa's apartment and the second floor window to that pawn shop, which also seems to be empty. …Whoo."

The last was said in sarcasm as he walked away, and Raph glared at Amy when they were left alone.

"What?" she asked. And then the chair began to teeter, and conversation was cut once more as Raphael grabbed her arm and cursed, Amy laughing the whole time.

_**xxx**_

When Theresa had been seven years old, she'd had a playhouse. Her father hadn't been much of a carpenter, so instead of making it he'd hired a company to come out to the back yard and build her one. It had been white, with blue shutters and a tiny porch that wrapped around it. Her father had planted daisies and tulips and daffodils around the path leading to her secret hideaway, and her Mother had helped her make Rainbow Bright curtains out of her old bed sheets.

April and Casey's farm house didn't look like it had Rainbow Bright curtains, but it did look similar to her old play house, and that was why Theresa stood in front of it, her heart contracting with the immediate affection she held for the home. It was two-and-a-half hours later, including the hour it had taken them to drive there (and Casey had gone 70 mph the whole way). But once the dirt driveway that was almost a mile from the mail box on the main road had ended, Theresa stood in front of the farm house and felt her heart leap.

The place had obviously gotten a make over while April had been living there. There was up to date siding, new roof shingles, and an immaculate and manicured lawn. It also had rustic white siding, navy blue shutters, and an array of flowers leading up the path to the huge wrap around porch- just like her play house. Huge Willows and Pines shaded the house, and the long drive way to the home was surrounded by a dense forest that continued on past the house and up over the horizon. Theresa could even see the edge of a small lake or at the very least a large pond, behind the house.

"Wow," she said, hands on hips, staring at the home and smiling.

"Yeah… it's pretty amazing," April said, coming to stand next to her. She was patting her belly, which was still flat as ever, and looking at her old home with a sad smile.

"I always loved it here but… oh, I don't know. I'm a city girl."

Theresa understood what she meant. Growing up in Manhattan herself, she knew it must have been quite a transition to move from a bustling city to the quiet of the country. But the air here was clean and fresh, and she could smell water and grass and wood. The city always smelled like smog and fuel and money (Theresa thought the city had a distinct money smell, both literally and figuratively), and it sometimes overwhelmed her. Here she could distinctly make out the different calls from birds, and the chatter of squirrels, and the rushing of a clean, unpolluted, gust of wind.

In the distance Thor was running at full speed, barreling himself at Robins that had landed in the yard to look for worms. They would fly at the last moment, as if they were teasing the dog, and Thor would bark at them before turning his attention to another bird that had landed somewhere else in the yard, his tail wagging fiercely at the joy open spaces give any canine.

"Want to see the inside?" April asked, breaking Theresa from her thoughts. She nodded, and April led her up the front porch, Casey following behind them both. The place was thoroughly cleaned out, leaving There's imagination to run wild at the possibilities for the home. Immediately upon entering through the front door there was a hall that led straight to the back of the house, and to her right a few feet ahead there was a staircase the led to the second floor. To Theresa's left was a swinging door that took her into a large kitchen, surrounded with windows and the same hardwood floor that ran throughout the entire house.

Love, Theresa found herself realizing, was not only compromised of relationships between people. Love was limitless. Theresa loved Raphael. She loved her friends. She loved her dog. She loved her job and her clients. And Theresa loved this house. She loved the living room with its stone fire place. She loved first floor study with its paneled walls, and the tiny first floor bathroom that in comparison was as large as the bathroom in her apartment. She loved the curving staircase with its cream colored rail and polished cherry wood steps. She loved the second story master bedroom with attached bathroom, and the two other guest rooms that were each large enough to be two normal sized bedrooms wrapped into one, separated in the middle by the guest bathroom. She even loved the closets.

"I love it," she said to no one in particular, looking out of the master bedroom window. The view was of the backyard and its massive space. There was the lake, complete with a small dock and gazebo, and a flat and tilled patch of earth she was sure was used for a garden. A large apple tree held a tire swing that swayed invitingly in the wind, and surrounding everything was that thick, dense forest. Thor had made his was to the back yard and was sniffing the shore of the lake cautiously.

April came to stand next to her and smiled.

"I know that look," she said.

Theresa bit her lip. It was like having an epiphany. Everything was falling to place in her mind like a puzzle. All the details, all the minute particulars, were arranging themselves into order. Plans were forming in her mind on their own accord, and for a moment Theresa had the clear understanding that living here would be pointless unless a certain someone came with her.

"…Can we go home?" she asked, looking at April with urgency written on her face.

April's eyes widened slightly. "I _don't_ know that look, however. Whatever you're up to… I hope you know what you're doing."

A look passed between them, a look of understanding and unread thoughts, and April finally nodded and sighed.

"Let's go," she said, and once the antique end table that had been the purpose of the trip in the first place was safely in the trunk of the car, they were headed back to the city.

It was time to talk to Raphael…

_**xxx**_

_**Author's Note:**_

I TOLD you it was almost over. :)

Really, there's like three or four chapters left… probably four.

Sooo… Since we are nearing the end I want to again thank everyone who's been reading and following this story. Your support in this has been phenomenal, and I really appreciate every one of you.

I especially want to thank Lola Hard (of course). Every time I read one of your reviews I swear I get goose bumps. You make me feel like the writing I provide really is something worth reading. Without you, lady, this story would have been axed a long time ago, and LITD is definitely dedicated _entirely_ to you.

I also want to thank my sister Amber, for reading this with such loyalty and really helping with the creative flow. You've talked with me for hours upon hours about Raphael and Theresa's plight, and even though you already know what's going to happen, I know you're excited about reading these last few chapters- which is the biggest compliment you could give me.

To all the regulars that review, I thank you. This story has been a work in progress for over 2 years now, and you've really stuck with it. I think it's amazing that it's going to be finished (and a bit sad), but as you know Michelangelo's story is next, so all is not complete. But your support and constructive criticism has really been a confidence builder, and I swear I'm a better writer for it. So for that, once more, _THANK YOU ALL!_


	20. Chapter Twenty, Under My Skin

**Author's Note:** Anything in obvious chunks of **bold** _italics_ at this point would be past memories/events between Raphael and Theresa. I also don't own the Ninja Turtles, or the franchise… or the lyrics/music to the following song. So sad. :(

_**xxx**_

_**"I've Got You Under My Skin"**_

I've got you under my skin  
I've got you deep in the heart of me  
You're so deep in my heart, that you're really a part of me  
And I've got you under my skin

I've tried so not to give in  
You know I said to myself this affair aint gonna go so well  
But why should I try to resist, when baby I know so well  
That I've got you way under my skin

I'd sacrifice anything come what might  
For the sake of having you near  
In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night  
And repeats in my ear;

Don't you know you fool, you never can win  
Use your mentality, step up to reality  
But each time I do, just the thought of you  
Makes me stop before I begin  
'Cause I've got you under my skin

_And I love you, under my skin._

_-Made famous by Frank Sinatra. _

_**xxx**_

_**Chapter Twenty: Under My Skin**_

"We need to talk."

It was the first thing Raphael heard when he stepped into Theresa's apartment, and he didn't like it. Her tone was that of a woman who was determined to have her say, and Raphael cringed at the thought of what he knew was about to come.

Theresa had only been home an hour after returning from April's farm house, and Raphael had spent that time sparring with Leo and Corbin down in the lair. He'd entered Theresa's apartment through the front door, wearing his standard disguise of large unlaced boots, long brown trench coat and dog-eared fedora hat, the brim pulled low over his face. He took the hat off now, along with the coat, and hung them on the back of a chair at the kitchen table. Theresa sat at the table, a mug of coffee in front of her, and without speaking Raphael took a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a large cup. He remembered a conversation, briefly, from over a month ago.

"_**Coffee?" She asked, her voice still groggy. **_

_**Raphael looked down at his mug then shook his head, "Tea. I aint much of a coffee person…"**_

Well he drank coffee now, he liked it even.

He sat at the kitchen table, sipping the steaming liquid and looking over at Theresa, brows raised.

"I think we know what this is about," Theresa said, and she looked sad.

Raphael said nothing, only looked at her, waiting, knowing without a doubt in his mind what was coming…

"_**That was considerate of you, thanks."**_

_**Raphael nodded then looked at her, "You've gotta stop thankin' me." **_

_**She gave a quiet laugh, "You need to learn how to take a compliment."**_

"I can't keep doing this. I can't keep tip-toeing around this and hope that you'll come to your senses. I can't keep waiting for you to wake up… Raph, I'm in _love_ with you. I want to be with you. And I don't mean to date or to see casually. I don't want to tell you a lie and say, _'lets just get to know each other and see where it goes.'_ Raph, I want to be with you… always. I have _never_ felt this way for anyone; I've never loved someone so much.

"And I know that sounds corny and cliché," she continued, "but it's true. I don't need any more time trying to decide if we're right for each other. We _are_. Nothing in my life has ever felt more right. And I'm not going to hurt you or leave you or abandon you, if that's what you're worried about. I know we can't know the future and what it might throw at us, but I can say with certainty that I'll never leave you Raphael. I can't _ever_ see that happening," she paused, hesitated, and then added, "I'll never tell you two weeks before Christmas that I want a family. You _are_ my family."

_**She looked down at him. "I… I know you don't want to hear it, but thank you." And before Raphael could even react, she'd leaned down and brushed her lips over his cheek**_**.**

Raphael flinched and mentally cursed April, knowing she'd been the one to tell Theresa about Mia and the way his ex-girlfriend had left him.

He sighed heavily and took a deep drink of his coffee before he began to speak. "You… you deserve more than I can give you. You deserve a family and a social life and a stable environment… and I _can't_ give you that," he said, his voice sounding persuasive, as if he were trying to convince her to see it all as he did.

Theresa looked at him, eyes piercing. "I _love_ you. What does it matter if you _think_ I need other things? I'm telling you that I don't need anything but _you_. I don't want anyone else. I don't want kids or a social life or a stable environment if you aren't in my life."

_**Raphael cocked his head to the side. "Is that even a real word? Flusterey?" **_

_**Theresa shook her head, "I don't think so, no." **_

_**Raphael chuckled. "It's alright that you ramble. It's kinda' cute. In a weird annoying way." **_

"Theresa… just think about what you're saying."

Theresa's hand smacked on the table, and Raphael flinched a bit at the sudden sound.

"Damn it Raph, I _have_ though about. Every damn day for the last month and a half I've thought about it. And every time I do think about it, every time I look at all the options I have in front of me, you're the only one that makes sense, that makes me happy."

Raphael felt a tugging at his heart and pushed it away. He opened his mouth to talk, to try and make her see reason, but Theresa cut him off.

"Raph, do you love me?"

"_**You don't think I'm a man?" he asked, and his voice was low. His eyes darkened as he looked at her intently, and Theresa felt her toes curl involuntarily at the gaze he was now casting her way. **_

"_**Hmmm… I don't think I remember. You look like a turtle." **_

_**Raphael grinned and shook his head, laughing briefly and casting his eyes upwards. **_

"_**Don't remember," he repeated, and he took another, closer step towards her. **_

_**Theresa pursed her lips to the side, her eyes dancing with laughter. "Remind me?" she asked, and Raphael's grin grew wider. **_

"What?" It was all he could force out, all his brain could think to say.

"Do. You. Love. Me?"

"_**This," Raphael croaked, panting slightly, "is a very bad idea." **_

_**As he said it his hands traveled down to her hips, gripping them firmly as he grinded the lower part of his abdomen against hers. **_

_**It sent a shock through Theresa that momentarily caused her knees to buckle. "Not… not a bad idea. A very good one actually."**_

There was a moment where he knew he should lie, a moment when he knew that telling her no, I don't love you, would be the best way to end this now.

"Of course I do," he said, unable to lie, but unable to say the words.

"Then what's the problem?" Theresa asked, and she looked so dejected, so depressed, that Raphael had to stop himself from taking all that nonsense about her deserving better than him back. But it _wasn't_ nonsense. She did deserve better than him. She deserved more than anything he could ever provide her with.

"Why can't you just listen? Why don't you just see it the way I do? I'm no good Theresa. Not for you, not for anybody."

"So you'd rather us both be apart and miserable than together and happy?! Jesus Raph, do you know how nuts that is?" Her voice had raised an octave higher than its usual tone, quite on the edge of hysterics. She was angry, and Raphael thought in a detached manner that it was good for her to be angry; it was good for her to be irate. It would make this easier…

"…_**I promise I'll come see you tonight," he murmured against her lips, and Theresa shook her head and said, "Not good enough, I want you now." **_

"Theresa, you don't know what you want. I know you love me, and I know you think this could all somehow work out, but it can't. Besides the fact that we've only known each other less than two months… you know we aren't supposed to be together. This isn't meant for either of us, this life you have planned out."

Simple. He was keeping it simple. There was no chance of making it work, there was no chance for a future together, and there was no way he would let his voice or actions convey otherwise.

"So that's it? You can end it all just like that? Without a regret or a second thought?" Theresa's voice trembled when she spoke, her eyes filling with tears that were a mixture of both hurt and anger.

_**And just as she began to loose herself in those first moments of real slumber, she heard Raphael say drowsily; "Love you." **_

_**Her mind grasped onto it and she smiled, clinging tightly to him. **_

"_**Love you, too," she whispered.**_

Raphael couldn't respond, because anything he'd say to her at that point would be a lie, would contradict everything he'd just said. Could he let her go that easily? Hell no. Could he leave without regrets? Of course not. But the two of them weren't right, no matter how it felt when they were together. No matter how content his heart was when he saw her, no matter how looking at her meant the complete and absolute sensation that he'd found his home. It wouldn't end well, couldn't end happily, and saving himself the heartache it would cause later if he didn't end it now, would do him a world of favors.

So instead of responding, instead of telling her anything comforting or reassuring, he stood.

"Where are you going?" Theresa asked, panicked.

"I'm leaving… I'll send Leo up."

_**Raphael took a steadying breath. "I want you to know," he began, his heart beating fast, "That I always meant to come back to you that night. And then everything happened and… and I just couldn't pick up where we'd left off. I didn't know how… But I always meant ta' come back." **_

_**Theresa nodded. "You're here now," she said breathlessly.**_

Theresa's face flushed red. "Why bother?" she snapped, pushing out of her seat so quickly that the chair slammed to the ground. She didn't bother picking it up.

"Just because its over doesn't mean I don't want you kept safe," he told her flatly. He slipped back on his jacket and hat, making his way to her room. He avoided looking at the bed, where they had made love so many times in this last month. Instead he opened the window and looked out into the alley, scanning it to make sure no one was present.

"_**I'm sorry," Raphael muttered in her ear, and Theresa nodded and replied, "Its ok. I know what you were trying to do" **_

"_**I just wanted to keep you safe. I didn't want you to be scared," he explained anyway. **_

_**Theresa laughed softly and felt herself falling into an exhausted sleep. "I know… I still love you." **_

"You're really leaving," Theresa said, and her voice held a catch of disbelief in it.

Raphael ignored the hopelessness in her voice, ignored the pain that was surely his heart being ripped form his chest. Instead he stepped onto the fire escape and lowered himself to the ladder.

"Don't go anywhere," he called up to her. There eyes met, locked intensely, and Theresa couldn't help the pleading way her voice called out, "Don't go Raph. Please… _please_ don't go."

But his eyes tore from her own, and he made his way down the rest of the ladder without a backwards glace.

Theresa watched him as he made his way down the alley and disappeared into the manhole, and out of her life. She stood there, rooted to the spot, waiting with the vain hope that he would reappear. When he did not she finally let herself crumple to heap on her bed, crying so hard that the tears were impossible to stop.

"_**I knew when I saw you that I wasn't dreaming." Her eyes, soft and penetrating, swept over his face before finishing with a tender and grateful, "Thank you."**_

_**xxx**_

_Your heart is not living until it has experienced pain… the pain of love breaks open the heart, even if it is as hard as a rock._

_-Hazret Inayat Khan_

When he slid the manhole closed, Raphael began to feel himself hypervhenelate, and he had to sit on the edge of the brick mortar that ran along the sides of the sewer and put his head between his legs. He still felt dizzy, and when he closed his eyes bright spots danced in place of his vision.

"_Don't go Raph. Please… please don't go."_

That's what she had said to him. That's what she had said, and he'd left her anyway.

"Oh God," he moaned, and he found his own voice strange and foreign to his ears. As if the rough baritone that was so full of emotion, so full of pain, could be from anyone but himself. And all he could think of, all he could hear, repeated over and over in his mind like a broken record, was; _"Don't go Raph. Please… please don't go." _

He sat there for a long time, head and heart pounding in synchronized rhythm, until finally he stood and began to walk, hardly aware of anything but the fact that his feet were taking him to the lair.

_**xxx**_

Thor was whining at the front door, loud enough that Theresa could hear him from her face down position on the mattress. The bedside clock told her that it was eight o' clock, only a half an hour later, but it felt like eons since Raphael had disappeared down the manhole.

There was a sharp bark from her living room, followed with another whine, and Theresa knew that Thor needed to use the bathroom.

"_Don't go anywhere,"_ she remembered Raphael saying, and her heart rippled with pain when she remembered the coldness in his voice.

"Well screw you," she mumbled, swinging her legs over the bed and slipping on her tennis shoes. She wiped her eyes and sniffled, her feet feeling heavy with every step she took. She missed Raphael, her heart _ached_ for him.

When she reached the kitchen she took Thor's leash from the hook in her closet and snapped it to his collar. She strapped her purse securely over her shoulder and opened her front door. She stood there for a moment, thinking about the safety she was jeopardizing by leaving her fortress-like home, but then Thor whined again and tugged on the lease.

'_You'll keep me safe,'_ she though, looking down at the dog as she exited her apartment. _'And Raph should have thought about this before he…'_

She couldn't finish the thought. He'd left. He'd left, and he _wasn't_ coming back.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Theresa wiped it away furiously. She took a deep breath, and once she'd traveled through the halls and down the steps of the complex she stepped out the front door and onto the sidewalk in front of her apartment. Thor tugged, and Theresa led him down the street, towards her office building.

Thor stopped and went to the bathroom twice, but Theresa didn't stop walking. Even when she passed her law firm, passed the courthouse, passed a park, her feet kept moving. Even when the sun was almost fully set, still she kept walking. Her mind was numb, her thoughts a murky haze of nothingness. The pain was so sharp in her heart, so heavy on her shoulders, that it made her feel anesthetized. They walked on, Thor sniffing the occasional fire hydrant and enjoying the walk, wagging his tail whenever a child would pass, and growling low in his throat when a stranger went by.

Why had she listened to April? Why had she gone to that damn farm house and let the thought of starting a happy life with the man she loved go to her head?

Theresa grit her teeth. No matter how long she waited to talk to Raphael, she told herself, this would have always been the outcome. He was too afraid, too proud, to let himself love her entirely, to let himself fall for another woman.

"Coward," she mumbled with venom, and her eyes swam with more unshed tears. Who ever heard of being afraid to love? Who ever heard of shunning a chance to be happy, to be with someone that made you feel complete?

A high-priced black Mercedes passed her by slowly, but Theresa would have hardly noticed it at all if it hadn't made a U-turn in the street and made its way back down towards her.

"Theresa?!"

Theresa's head jerked up at the call of a male voice. He was in the Mercedes, the window rolled down, looking at her and smiling. His voice had been surprised when he'd called out to her, but his face showed none of that, only a grinning and eerie calm.

She recognized him, said his name, and unconsciously her grip tightened on Thor's leash.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, and Theresa felt her palms go immediately wet when he shifted his car into park, turned off his headlights, rolled up the passenger side window, and got out of his vehicle.

Same height. He was _the same height _as her stalker. How had she only just noticed?

"Just… just walking Thor."

He stood in front of her, hands on hips, grinning widely. The grin spread even wider when he saw the fear on her face, and it took on a slightly unhinged quality that made Theresa even more wary. Something was _not right_ about this man, and it was something she'd never noticed before today.

Her hand was slipping into her purse, feeling blindly for the pepper spray she knew was there, when he reached out and took her wrist firmly, pulling her close to him.

"I have a gun Theresa, get in the car."

No pretense, no beating around the bush, just; _get in the car, I have a gun_. Theresa shuddered. This was for _real_. This was _really_ happening, and the man standing in front of her was _really_ her stalker. She mentally kicked herself for not listening to Raphael. No matter how angry she was at him, she still should have listened.

But then… Raphael _had_ left her on her own, and he knew there was a crazed manic out to get her. Leo had never shown up, even though Raphael had told her he was sending him. And it wasn't her fault that Thor had needed to relive himself. Although, in retrospect, she probably shouldn't have walked so far away from her apartment.

Thor was growling, his lips curled back so far that all his teeth were clearly viable, gleaming and full of wrath.

"Let me go," she croaked, and her eyes quickly scanned her surroundings, looking for someone she could call out to for help. But there was no one. She had just passed a small park that had been full of people playing with their children, enjoying the last few rays of the setting sun. But here there was not a soul, and Theresa cursed her luck.

He moved his jacket aside, showing her the black handle of a 9mm that was tucked securely in the belt of his slacks.

"Get in the car, or I shoot the dog," he said, pulling her to his car, opening the passenger door. Thor barked harshly, and Theresa, knowing this man would shoot her dog down in the middle of this empty street and still take her away in his car, let go of the leash.

He flung her into the sleek black Mercedes and then proceeded to look covertly around. Thor was going crazy now, and when he went to throw himself on top of Theresa's assailant, the man took out his gun and as calm as ever put a bullet into the charging dog.

Theresa screamed, the man laughed, and Thor yelped and fell to his side.

The shot was resounding, and it echoed in Theresa's ears for what felt like an eternity. She sat paralyzed on the leather seat, unable to breath or think properly, before her thoughts processed the events that had just transpired.

"Thor!"

The man leered down at her. He reaching down and yanked the purse from her shoulder, tossing it next to the limp dog before slamming her door shut. Theresa was dismayed to find that there was no handle on the passenger's side door, that it could only be opened from the outside.

"Damn it!" she screeched, and when the man slid in next to her, shifting the car into drive, Theresa lunged at him.

"You shot my dog you fucking bastard!"

She managed to slap his face, her nails pushing into his skin so deeply that they left bright red marks down his cheek.

He laughed, breaking suddenly so that Theresa flew forward, hitting her head hard on the radio.

"You need to buckle up my dear, relax," he told her, and when Theresa saw the wet rag he pulled from the middle consol, a part of her brain that was watching it all with detached uncaring was not surprised.

'_Of course,'_ she thought, hating her luck once more.

She struggled, her fingers clawing in vain at his large rough hands, hating the taste and smell of the potent liquid when the rag was shoved over her mouth. But when the black edges of unconsciousness began to enfold her, she welcomed them.

'_Let me not wake up,'_ she prayed, and the last thing she saw before her mind closed to darkness was her lifeless dog in the rear view mirror.

'_Let me not wake up.' _

_**xxx**_

_**I've got you under my skin, I've got you deep in the heart of me, You're so deep in my heart, that you're really a part of me, And I've got you under my skin…  
**_

Raphael trudged slowly through the sewer, thinking thoughts that made him feel slightly sick. He was walking now, this was true, but his head still spun just as fiercely as it had an hour ago, and his feet trudged in no real hurry as he made his way to the lair.

"_So that's it? You can end it all just like that? Without a regret or a second thought?"_

He flinched when he remembered Theresa's words. Without a regret? Try a million. He wished he could be that guy, the one who could be there for her, protect her, love her. But he was a _turtle_. And Theresa? She was successful and smart and beautiful, what kind of a life could she possibly have with him?

_**I've tried so not to give in, You know I said to myself this affair aint gonna go so well, But why should I try to resist, when baby I know so well, That I've got you way under my skin…  
**_

'_You want to be there for her? You __have__ been,'_ a tiny voice that sounded a lot like Leo whispered in his head. _'You want to protect her? What do you think you've been doing? You want to love her? Jesus, you love her more than anything, __**don't**__**you**__?'_

Raphael growled at the voice, annoyed that his conscience sounded so much like his older brother. But he couldn't deny what it said. He couldn't disagree with his own thoughts. He _had_ been protecting her, hadn't he? And he had certainly been loving her. God knew he _still_ loved her.

_**I'd sacrifice anything come what might, For the sake of having you near, In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night, And repeats in my ear…  
**_

And the life he wanted to give her? What was wrong with the life they had now? They made love, they made meals, they watched movies and they went for late night walks. They talked about everything, even Raphael's most embarrassing recaps as a teenager. His family loved her, she made Mikey talk and act at even a semblance of what he used to be, and even Amy was calling and inviting her out for coffee. And Splinter would love the girl too; he if ever let them meet.

"Damn," he mumbled, trying to push the thoughts away, trying to hold on to the conviction that they were not right for each other. That in the end she would leave him for something better. For something she deserved.

_**Don't you know you fool, you never can win, Use your mentality, step up to reality… **_

… But what was so wrong with him? Before Mia, hadn't he always said he _loved_ being a turtle? He'd never felt shamed or self conscious about it. He'd never thought he wasn't good enough for anyone. And Theresa seemed sure that he was the one she wanted to be with, that there was no one else she would ever want.

"_Raph, I'm in love with you. I want to be with you. And I don't mean to date or to see casually. I don't want to tell you a lie and say, 'lets just get to know each other and see where it goes.' Raph, I want to be with you… always."_

That voice, the way she'd pleaded with him. It had been so hard to resist. So hard not to scoop her in his arms and tell her that he was being an idiot of the worst kind. That loving her was the most frightening thing for him because as much as Mia breaking his heart had hurt him, if Theresa broke his heart he was sure he'd die. The pain it would cause if she left him, it would be so much worse.

So it was all the better to end it now… wasn't it?_  
_

_**But each time I do, just the thought of you, Makes me stop before I begin, 'Cause I've got you under my skin…**_

"Damn it," he muttered again, and this time he really did push down his thoughts, smothering them until there were no more voices telling him that what he was doing was wrong.

But his heart hurt, as if an extremely large hole had been punctured into it, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle before he even stepped into the dead silence of the lair.

It was a quiet that echoed off the walls, and Raphael had to cock his head to the side before he heard the hum of Donny's computers and the light swoosh and thump of someone hitting the punching bag in the dojo.

"Raph? That you?"

It was Donny, calling out to him from his room, and his voice sounded oddly perplexed.

Raphael had to clear his throat before he was able to answer. "Yeah… it's me," he replied, and he was chagrined to find that his voice was still rough and scratchy, full of emotion.

There was more silence that greeted him, and finally Donatello walked out of his room, looking confused.

"Who's with Theresa?"

Raphael's brows raised in question. "She's in her apartment… I was gonna send Leo up for awhile."

Donny shook his head. "No. I just took a look at the cameras about a half hour ago; she was leaving with Thor… I thought you were following her."

"No… no I left an hour ago…We kind of had a fight…"

They looked at one another, each assessing the situation.

"She left with Thor a half hour ago?" Raphael finally asked in a low voice, and Donny nodded. "Yeah… she hasn't come back yet," he replied.

"…"

The long pause that stretched between them was heavy with implication.

"It doesn't take that long to walk the dog down the street," Donatello finally said, and there was a bite to his voice, a tone that clearly had a double meaning. It was like he was slapping Raphael in the face screaming, _'what did you do?!'_

Raphael felt his heart skip a beat, and then another, before it stopped all together. What _**had**_ he done? He'd left her alone, to fend for herself. Hadn't they just talked about the stalker luring them into a false sense of security? And what had he done? He'd left her alone…

"Shit…. Shit! Don… Don get everybody together…. I…I gotta go!"

He was out the door, leaving Donny to stand rooted to the spot before he started yelling for Leonardo. Raphael could hear his brothers' panicked voice carry as he raced down the tunnel, water splashing around his feet as he kicked it up in his hurry.

What had he done?

_**And I love you, under my skin.**_

_**xxx**_

_**Author's Note:**_ Worried?


	21. Chapter Twenty One, Just Dead

_**Author's Note:**__ There is an __extreme__ amount of cursing and violence in this chapter. You've been warned…_

_**Chapter Twenty One: Just Dead**_

_Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that. _

_**-Martin Luther King Jr.**_

_It took me everything I had_

_To give all that I could_

_Walk beside me while I sleep_

_Steer me from the slumber wolf_

_Tangled forest of the mind _

_Speaks to me of self-defense_

_Close the window through the pane_

_Hear the siren's serenade_

_**-Lyrics from Punch Drunk Grinning Soul, By Flogging Molly**_

_The darkness falls around my heart_

_And I know what's coming before it starts_

_The slightest whisper in the night_

_The cold that advances, _

_The tendrils of fright_

_All these I know, _

_All these I feel_

_In the dark of the night,_

_On the edge of my heels._

_**-Unknown**_

_**xxx**_

Theresa's head was pounding in her skull, and the pain was so immense that she couldn't help the groan the escaped between her lips, even though warning bells were sounding off in the back of her mind.

"Oh good, you're waking up."

It was more like warning alarms now. If the pain hadn't been so colossal, she would have fringed unconsciousness. As it was, her head felt as though it were splitting open and another gasp of pain escaped from her lips.

There was a quiet chuckle from somewhere, although placing where it came from was complicated. However, Theresa vaguely thought that it seemed as though the throaty lilt came from a small distance in front of her. She could hear the voice and recognize it with no problems, even though he sounded like he was a million miles away compared to the pain in her head, and her body involuntarily shuddered.

_Him?_

Her mind knew the truth, knew what and who was going to be staring her in the face once she could get her eyes to open… but it seemed so _impossible_. The thought of opening her eyes and facing what would be there in front of her, grinning like a maniac she was sure, was the most undesirable thing she could think of. Her head spun with the after effects of the chloroform, and she saw spots every time she did try to peer up at her kidnapper.

"Its time to wake up Theresa… Don't make me hit you. We have _so_ much to do together before I start that."

Another chill ran up her spine. Her whole body felt stiff, and Theresa knew form the way she was sitting that she was in a chair, held up by rope or duct tape. When she tried to move her hands forward, wanting to shield them from the bright light that was in reality only a floor lamp, she felt cool metal against her wrists. _Handcuffs_. It had to be handcuffs keeping her wrist so firmly behind her back, arms uncomfortably detained around the chair she was secured in.

It took her a moment to pry her eyes open, but when she did Theresa was able to see the blurred image of Ethan Shempski towering over her, grinning in a way that could only be described as hungry. _Greedy_.

"Lo' Ethan," she mumbled groggily, her head lulling to the side as she began to slip back into unconsciousness.

"None of that," he said happily, and Theresa heard more than felt the crack that was his hand slapping across her face. And then her head felt like it was exploding.

_**xxx**_

"My sister is _gone_? What the _fuck_ did you do?!"

Donatello's hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides, and his jaw flexed forcefully. He, Leonardo and Corbin were in the living room, standing near the door that would lead them out of the lair, and Tommy was, of course, the cause their delay. Instead of leaving, instead of rushing to the surface like they wanted so desperately to do in their urgency to try and locate Theresa, they were listening to Thomas Colden bitch at them.

"Listen, put on the blindfold so we can get topside," Leonardo growled, holding out the cloth and looking angry beyond belief.

Theresa's brother stood broad shouldered and confident, his eyes piercing as he looked at the three opposing individuals, sneering in obvious dislike at all of them. The three, Donatello, Leonardo and Corbin, stood almost shoulder to shoulder in front of the door, blocking Tommy's exit as effectively as a brick wall.

"Fuck you! I'm going up now, _without_ the blindfold!" Tommy's voice was steadfastly increasing to insolent shouting, but there was a sly undertone to it. It was that devious suggestion in Tommy's voice that caused Donatello to know without a doubt that the reason Thomas Colden was so resistant to the thick and impenetrable cloth over his eyes was so that he could try and remember his way _back_ the lair. The man wanted try and remember how to navigate his way through the sewer so he could tell Benito Escobar where Parker McCoy's murderer was, and lead him back to where he resided. Back to the lair so Benito could do away with his half-brothers killer. So he could do away with…

_Mikey_ …

'_Over my dead body,'_ Donny thought heatedly, and he had to take a deep breath before he lost himself in the anger that was quickly overwhelming him. His blood felt as though it were boiling in his veins, and he had his teeth clenched so tightly that he was sure they might break. He could feel not only his palms, but his forearms and shoulders begin to tremble and shake in his effort to suppress his anger. And dimly through it all he had to wonder; was this how Raphael felt _every time_ something upset him? Is this what his hot headed brother went through every occasion something made him angry? This impossible struggle to control the rage… If this was even an _iota_ of what Raphael felt like at all times, Donatello had to greater respect his brother.

"Put. On. The. Fucking. Blindfold," Leonardo snarled, and each emphasized word was jerky as he said it, raw anger evident in every fiber of the oldest turtle's body. Donatello wondered if the anger was not only directed at Tommy, but at Raphael as well, for leaving Theresa in the situation where they were now in- scrambling to find her.

To find her and make sure she was unharmed. To find her and make sure she was _alive_.

Probably this was true. Probably, Leo wanted to kill Raphael right now.

…_Probably._

"Fuck you! You fuckin' freaks caused all this shit! You're the reason my sisters gone missin' an' I aint listening to shit else you have ta say to me. _Fuck_ _you_," Tommy repeated, grabbing his crotch and flicking Leo the bird.

Corbin growled in frustration and fury and spoke before Leo had the chance to. "Jesus Tommy, each second you stand here and argue, your sister could be gettin' _killed_. What the _fuck_ is wrong wit' you?!" Corbin had said the word they had all been afraid to utter, and he was now looking at Tommy as though he'd never seen him before, as if the man facing him was a stranger. In a way, it was true. Tommy looked as though the word _killed_ when applied to his younger sister had no effect on him.

"Shut up you fuckin' traitor," Tommy threw at him, and Corbin took several threatening steps forward.

"God dammit Tom, I swear to God I'll fucking slit your throat. Put on the fucking blindfold!" Corbin's face had turned crimson with his anger, veins pulsating from his neck.

Tommy grinned in an unnerving way, and Donatello felt another strand of his usually harnessed control slip. Unconsciously he inched closer to Tommy, the irate man now only an arms length away from Donatello and the door out of the lair.

Out of the corner of his eye Donny saw that Leonardo had a deep flush of red that had somehow become apparent on his neck and cheeks; a feat that was hard to manage with any of the terrapin brothers because of their skin tone. Tommy's brow raised in a mocking way at the eldest brothers obvious fury, arching just as Donatello had seen Theresa's do a thousands times before. The small gesture, although it was slight, reminded Donatello so greatly of Theresa that he was inexplicably recalling the situation between him and Theresa the previous month, when the woman who he'd made an awkward friendship with had been sobbing in his arms.

"_**I don't want to die!" she weeped, and Donny held her closer, tighter, feeling a shock course through him at her words.**_

He flinched visibly at the memory, and he felt his anger elevate inside his chest. It was a tight fist of rage that was threatening every moment to break loose, only growing steadily as he looked at the selfish face of Thomas Colden. She had begged him for her life, and here he was wasting precious time because of a man who didn't even really care about her- a man who _used_ her in his time of need and thought nothing of abandoning her when her life was in true and absolute jeopardy.

Leonardo's voice was slightly shaky as he began to speak, and his voice also held an angry bite to it that Donny was sure he'd never heard before. "We're being _considerate_ that Theresa is your sister, taking you to the top with us," he said. "You can _fucking_ stay here if you don't put on the blindfold."

Tommy was openly grinning now, "What makes you think I'll stay here?" the man asked in sarcasm. "What, is the _rat_ gonna stop me from leaving?"

It was at that moment, in that very _instant_, that Donatello lost it. His anger flared rampant in him like a wild fire, torching every nerve in his body. The movement Donatello made was deft, his arm shooting out so quickly that it was a mere blur. Tommy's throat was squeezed steadfastly in his right hand, and Donatello turned fluidly and slammed the man against the door so hard that it echoed throughout the lair.

All was quiet for a moment before Donny spoke.

"You fucking pretentious piece of _white trash_," he began, paying no mind to the way Tommy kicked at his thighs. "Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?" His voice was low and deadly, and he lifted Tommy off his feet, his head spinning as rage engulfed him entirely. Donatello could barely even feel the scrapes of Tommy's nails against his hand as the man tried in vain to pry the much stronger turtle's fingers from around his neck.

Behind him Donatello could distantly hear Leonardo say; "Don… calm down," but the purple banded turtle ignored him.

Tommy gasped and Donatello squeezed his large hand tighter around the man's throat, his grip vice-like. He could feel the veins in Tommy's neck pulsing beneath his thick fingers, he could see as Tommy's face turned a brighter shade of red. Tommy was gasping soundlessly now, eyes bulging in a way that conveyed with ease the terror that had washed over him. It took every ounce of willpower in him not to snap Thomas Colden's neck.

"What makes you think that I won't beat you so fucking bad you won't _need_ a blindfold? …I will, you know," Donny breathed in deeply, his ears roaring in rage, and released his hold. Tommy collapsed on the ground, wheezing and coughing, taking in air noisily as he rose weakly to his hands and knees. Donatello sneered down at him, disgust plain on his features.

"Now either put the blindfold on, or I'll _make you_ put the damn thing on."

_**xxx**_

_(…flashback…)_

"_Shut up Mike. Just because Jade is dead," Michelangelo blanched as he said this, "doesn't mean you get to act like an asshole."_

"_Oh __I'm__ the asshole? You know what Raph, Jade __is__ dead. She's dead. I never get to see her again… I wasted so much time without her." _

_Michelangelo sucked in a breath, his voice becoming strained. _

"_I don't ever get to see her again Raph. No one gets it. She's gone. I… we broke up, and I though I missed her then. But it's nothing, __nothing__ compared to this. She's… she's in the ground. She doesn't laugh or smile or cry. She's just dead." _

_(…end flashback…) _

Raphael ran down the sidewalk, not caring that he was entirely exposed to anyone that he might happen to pass.

_Just dead._ It's what Michelangelo had been trying to tell him all this time, and he'd been too stupid to listen. '_She's in the ground,'_ he'd said.

No more Theresa. No more hearing her voice saying 'Good Morning!' every time they woke up, and no more hearing her say 'Good Night!' every evening before they fell to sleep. No more hearing her laugh or cry. No more hearing her gasp in pleasure. No more seeing her eyes light up when he walked into the room, like he was the best damn thing that had ever happened to her. No more late night walks with Thor, no more movie nights that always ended with them ignoring the film and instead wrapped in each others arms. No more 'I love you.'

No second chances.

No goodbyes.

'_She's in the ground.' _

"Oh God."

He could see the massive figure limping towards him on the side walk, and he knew it was Thor before he ever reached the St. Bernard.

_**xxx**_

Justin Hunt paced in agitation, wearing a long track into the deep green carpet with his troubled strides

He'd seen Theresa pass his office.

He was working late (ever since Benito had threatened him he'd been working weekends and later hours than usual, unable to sleep with the anxiety of potential death looming over his head), and, as his office window was a clear view of the street, he'd seen Theresa and her massive dog pass. She'd looked upset for the brief moment that he'd glimpsed her (it had been by chance, really. He had been engrossed in a case file, and he'd just happened to see her from the corner of his eye before she was past his window and out of sight). She'd had her head down, and her eyes hadn't even glanced up as she had walked by, obviously distracted in her thoughts.

That was an hour ago.

Not that he was keeping track of her, and certainly not that he'd been paying too much attention to whether or not she'd passed back this way, but Justin was almost sure that she hadn't walked by again.

What was more, only ten minutes after Theresa had walked by Justin could have sworn it had been Ethan's black Mercedes that had flown past his window. …And a black Mercedes had gone by again, just fifteen minutes ago, speeding back down the road with the same urgency as it had on its first trip past.

Not that it would _normally_ mean anything…

_But_…

But didn't Justin already suspect Ethan? Wasn't he already wary of the seemingly unobtrusive, overly polite man? A nice Jewish lawyer that handled small claims and civil matters _shouldn't_ be suspected. A guy who never overindulged in liquor or gambling. A bachelor, making a nice living for himself, always calm and level headed. That was _not_ the kind of man involved in any kind of unsavory behavior.

_But…_

Ethan had always gone out of his way to be… _nice_. He was nice in the courtroom, he was nice at the office, and the couple of times he'd gone out for a drink with the rest of the firm, he'd been perfectly _nice_.

Justin was glad he'd remembered a few things from his father, before the bastard had drunkenly wrapped himself around a tree when Justin had only been nine.

"_Remember, mah boy. You don' never wunna trust three kind's a men. Ya never trust a man who aint big enough to take a punch. Ya never trust a man too dumb ta lie. An ya never, ever, trust a man who don't never get mad. Them nice ones… its them nice ones who'll get'cha when yer back's turned. I learned me that in Nam." _

There had been a plethora of other men you couldn't trust, according to Justin's veteran father, but it was that conversation that stuck in Justin Hunt's mind, and he was glad for it. Growing up in southern Tennessee had been an… _experience_. As a small child he'd never seen the problem with the trailer park or the food stamps or the confederate flag his father had hung in their window. But as he'd gotten older, he'd realized that The Walton's lived in a home, and The Brady's were still a functioning family, and even The Jefferson's had a better chance at life than little ole' Justin Hunt, with his alcoholic Father and his manic-depressive Mother.

So when Vernon Hunt had ended his night at the VFW, where he'd been drunkenly recalling the horrors of Viet Nam with other war veterans, he'd also ended his life, hugging a sturdy elm that didn't so much as budge when the old ford had smashed into it. And nine year old Justin, who was realizing that life wasn't a TV show that ended with the family kissing their kids goodnight and everyone learning their lesson, knew what and who he wanted to be. He'd worked hard to loose that Tennessee accent, he'd made sure his grades were more than above average, and he'd gotten _tough_. He'd been no sniffling straight _A_ nerd. Oh no. Justin Hunt went _looking_ for fights. He never backed down, he never gave up, and he sure as hell never let anyone tell him wasn't good enough. And, over the years, he'd become straight forward to a point of crassness, enjoying the shocked look on other's faces when he said whatever he was thinking.

So a month earlier, when he'd caught Ethan Shempski in Theresa Colden's office, he confronted the _nice_ man. Because you just could trust _nice_.

_(…flashback…)_

"What are you doing?" He asked, his hands in pockets, looking with a raised eyebrow as Ethan tiptoed out of Theresa's office.

Ethan Shempski jumped in startled alarm, his eyes bulging as he turned to face Justin.

"Mr. Hunt! I had no idea you were still here!" Ethan took a deep breath and relaxed his posture. "I was just getting some paperwork out of Theresa's office… she told me I could."

There was silence between them, and Justin saw sweat break out on Ethan's forehead. Otherwise the man remained completely calm. He was fidgeting just a bit, but he was calm.

"…I thought Theresa locked her office when she left," Justin said casually, and a realization came to him as he saw Ethan's hand reach almost unconsciously into the pocket of his dress slacks.

_He has a key. _

The though, so completely random, came on its own. But there it was. And Justin knew it was true, knew that Ethan's hand was gripping a key to Theresa's office just as surely as he knew the man would be gripping his dick later tonight while watching some sad soft core porn on HBO. Guys like this were all the same. They were too nice to get ahead, too damn smart for their own good, and they were definitely too predictable.

"Not tonight. She left it unlocked so I could get the file I needed."

'_Calm as a clam,'_ Justin thought. _'But he's lying.'_

"Couldn't find the file?" Justin asked out loud, looking pointedly at Ethan's file-less hands.

"Oh, well, I think she took it home on accident."

Ethan smiled a bit, something Justin was sure the man thought was meant to look genuine, but just came off as a bit… _creepy_. Then, when Justin neither smiled back nor looked convinced, Ethan moved around him and retreated to his own office, emerging a moment later with his coat and leaving the law firm in a noticeable hurry.

The following night, while Justin had been in the office by himself-with only his dog Dandy for company, he'd jimmied his way into Ethan's office and found a lone key in the man's desk drawer. And lo and behold it had fit in Theresa's locked office door- and had opened the sucker too.

There had been nothing in Theresa's office worth taking, nothing that Justin was even interested in looking for, so he'd left and locked the door behind him, keeping the key in his own office and wondering why Ethan had felt the need to have it in the first place. Because the fact that Ethan had truly needed anything from his colleagues office really was just plain and simple _bull shit_.

And then the most amazing thing had happened. Horrifying, but still, amazing. Ethan had looked at Justin the next workday- a Monday- (which was two days later) and there had been a brief yet undeniable flash of anger in his normally complacent eyes. A flash of anger that was directed _exclusively_ towards Justin.

Three days later the key he'd stolen from Ethan's office was missing from Justin's top drawer.

And so was his gun.

_(… end flashback…) _

Justin grimaced now at the memory. He _probably_ should have mentioned all of this to Theresa. He probably should have told her about the key and the missing gun and the fact that Ethan Shempski was rummaging in her office late at night. But he hadn't, and the reason was so infantile, so childish, that Justin felt a hot creeping of shame make its way up his neck.

He liked her. And Theresa, with all her haughty professionalism and charm, _hated_ Justin Hunt.

Justin groaned. The woman had helped him when Benito Escobar had threatened his life. She'd helped him find Dandy, who he loved, and she'd even had the intelligence to take him to the ammo surplus and make sure he got bullets for his unregistered, _illegal_, 9mm glock.

Bullets to a gun that had been meant to protect Justin from that fucking thug Benito Escobar. Bullets to a gun that Ethan Shempski had undoubtedly stolen. Bullets to a gun that may possibly be the cause of Theresa's _death_?

Justin tried to shake off the chill that ran down his spine. No. Ethan Shempski would not kill Theresa. And the reason he wouldn't kill Theresa was because Ethan Shempski was _not_ her stalker, and he was _not_ the one barreling down the street in that Mercedes just twenty minutes ago.

"_An ya never, ever, trust a man who don't never get mad. Them nice ones… its them nice ones who'll get'cha when yer back's turned."_

His Father's words echoed in his head for a moment, and it was in that moment that Justin knew in his gut, knew it like he knew Santa wasn't real or that the Easter bunny wasn't out shitting eggs into the back yard, that Ethan Shempski had been the one in that car, and Theresa was in it as well- and _not_ by her own will.

"Shit."

He pivoted on his heels in a cold panic, not knowing what he was going to do, but knowing that he had to do _something_, and he was met with the face of a monster, dark green and red banded, only inches from his own nose.

"Where the _fuck_ is Theresa?" it growled, and before he could even open his mouth, Justin felt a fist, more like a rock or an anvil, connect with his jaw.

_**xxx**_

Duct tape.

He'd wound the duct tape around and around her head, covering her mouth tightly. Theresa took air in through her nose and tried to push down the panic that was rising steadily in her. The inability to breathe or talk through her mouth made her feel even more powerless than the handcuffs on her wrists did. And the duct tape was wound tight, so there was no way she could maneuver her head to try and pry it off. Only her hands would allow her to pull off the silver adhesive, and even as Theresa tried to wedge her wrists through the heavy duty links she knew they were clasped too tightly for her to pull them through.

Ethan stood in front of her, hands on hips, grinning like it was Christmas morning.

"Oh Theresa," he began. "Do you know how long I've wanted this?" His voice was giddy, and his breath was so heated with excitement that he had to pull off his fogged spectacles and wipe them clean on his dress shirt. He was wearing black work slacks and a light blue top, the collar undone at his neck and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and if it had been any other situation one might think of him as a somewhat handsome business man getting ready to do some at-home tinkering with the broken sink or the busted DVD player. As it was, he looked far from the happy-go-lucky family man. He looked deranged, his glasses now slightly askew on his face and his eyes bulging in excitement.

"I need to keep you from screaming. We're so close, you know, for help, and it wouldn't do to have anyone hear you scream."

Theresa was confused for a moment. They were in a large studio style apartment, and lining the walls were mattresses and exercise padding, rudimentary placed to keep sound from entering or leaving the large room. There was one tall floor lamp in the middle of the room, and to her left Theresa saw one solitary window. To the back of the room Theresa saw a door that was slightly ajar, and she assumed it was a bathroom.

That was it, there was nothing else. Nothing she could see that could be of any help to her. Nothing she could use that could help aid her in an escape.

It was then that Theresa realized that she was going to die, and it would not be quick or pleasant.

Ethan was talking once more. "You see, we're _so_ close to help for you, and you need to not be making any noise. It would be very bad if you did… for me. I don't think that if your new friends heard you screaming they would be too happy with me… We can't have them snooping around here _too_ soon, after all."

It was obvious to Theresa that he was baiting her. He wanted her to wonder where she was, and it was working. Where was she that if she screamed her new friends (obviously Raphael and the other turtles) would here her and come to her rescue?

Her brows furrowed at Ethan, who was grinning down at her like a maniac.

"You see, Theresa," he began, walking in a lazy circle around her chair. "This all started almost a year ago. …I bet that you didn't know that, I bet you didn't know I've been following you for over a year."

He was standing in front of her again, grinning down at her in pride. Theresa felt as though prey might, after the lion has it between its maws.

"You'd already been at the law firm for almost a year, and I liked you. _A lot._ But you didn't notice me. Sure, you said hello, you made your small talk, but you didn't _notice_ me. So one night I followed you home after work. It had been a whim really; I'd been talking myself into doing it for weeks… And God was it exhilarating! You had told me once that you didn't live far from the office, and it was that night that I realized I could use that to my advantage. The fire escape, your cheap bedroom window, the less than savory neighborhood… it was all to my advantage. And after that first night… well, there was no stopping it. You were an addiction, Theresa. I'll never find another woman as good as you once you're gone. You'll be _nearly_ irreplaceable."

There was a glint in Ethan Shempski's eye as he looked down at her, a small half grin on his face that was maniacal. Theresa shuddered, not missing the way he'd said _nearly_. There would be more after he killed her, more women he would stalk and harass and murder.

"After awhile though, following you became so… _tedious_. I wanted you more than anything Theresa, more than anything," he said the last on a whisper, holding the kind of reverence in his tone that usually belonged to church goers and library patrons. He sighed and began to pace in front of her, straightening his glasses so that they were no longer cockeyed. He looked normal now, like the Ethan she had worked with for the last two years. The only difference was that he'd tied her to a chair and was contemplating rape and murder- instead of litigation and legal proceedings.

"The reason it was becoming so tedious Theresa, is because it was becoming harder and hared to keep myself in the shadows. I was crazy with the want to have you, to revel myself to you. I was following you home every night at this point, and I was impatient."

He stopped and looked at Theresa once more, grinning wolfishly down at her. Theresa shuddered visibly, which only made the white gleam of Ethan's canines more prominent.

"That's when it happened, Theresa. That's when everything seemed to fall into place."

He smiled at her, wanting her to wonder, wanting her eyes to question him, and since she had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be talking about, she did. Her eyes narrowed at him, the look in them clearly saying, _'what are you talking about?' _

'_Keep him talking,'_ Theresa thought. _'Maybe the guys are looking for me. Leo would have been in my apartment by now, he knows I'm missing. Just keep him talking.' _

She pushed down the steady panic that was rising in her, willing herself to remain clam, willing herself to take the steady breaths through her nose and not let the surmounting fear and terror take hold of her.

Ethan's smile remained as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, his hand grazing over the gun that was still tucked into his belt- the gun that had shot Thor. The gun that had made her big, sloppy, wonderful dog lay and not move. Theresa held back tears at the thought of Thor and saw that what he'd extracted from the pocket of his slacks was a silver cigarette case. He lit up, inhaling deeply and exhaling through his nose.

"I was going to my car one night, after following you home and watching you for hours… _hours_ Theresa, and I was thinking that I just needed to have you soon, to take you at the next opportunity that presented itself. Waiting and watching build up an excitement, but it gets so monotonous, as I said. Besides, I was tired all the time; I could barely keep my eyes open at work. …And that's when it happed, sweet God it was like a sign!"

His eyes had become wild and wide, his voice excited, and it made Theresa wary, suspicious. What had happened? What was a sign from God? He dragged another long pull of his filtered -possibly Marborol- smokes, filling his lung that was more than likely already blacker than night. His eyes glazed in memory, and his smile was large.

"The sign," he said. "Oh, a sign from God I'm sure, but a literal sign as well. You see, Theresa, the pawn shop you live across from… it rents out its upper level. For the last five months I've been living right across from you… if I look out this window," he gestured to the solitary window, "I can see right into you bedroom."

Theresa's heart beat a wild tempo in her breast. Her apartment? They were mere feet from _her_ _apartment_?

Theresa took a deep breath through her nose, willing herself to calm. They would hear her. If she could get this duct tape off, _they would hear her_.

Immediately she began to work on the handcuffs, feeling her wrists chaff horribly in her vigor to remove them. Ethan was talking again, and although Theresa watched him closely, she heard nothing of what he said.

'_Lubricant,'_ she thought. _'I need something to make my hand slick enough to slip through the handcuffs. I need…' _

_**Blood**_.

Instantly, and without second thought, Theresa switched from pulling at the handcuffs to digging her manicured nails deeply into her wrists. She kept her face impassive as she scratched and ripped at the veins that were covered with the thin layer of skin, willing back tears when she felt the sudden gush of hot blood pour over her hands. Still she worked, clawing until she knew that the blood wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. The sticky wetness pooled into her awaiting palm, making her hands slick in the blood.

And still Ethan talked and paced, and talked and paced…

_**xxx**_

It was dark when Leonardo emerged from the sewer, his face grim as he stood to assess his surroundings. The others waited for him to give them the clear, wanting no one to see them as they emerged. When he was sure no one was around to witness them rising from the sewer he turned and reached a strong arm down the manhole, gripping Tommy's underarm and yanking him up forcefully. The man cursed, but Leonardo snarled in anger and pushed him roughly away. Tommy, who now had dark bruises forming around his throat, yanked off the blindfold and glared at the turtle, but Leonardo ignored him, watching the street vigilantly as the others emerged behind him. Once the rusted cover was back in place, sliding with the tell-tale _thunk_ over the manhole, Leo flipped open his cell phone and dialed Raphael's number.

"_Yeah?"_

His brother answered on the second ring, his voice clearly strained and angry.

"Did you find anything?" Leonardo asked, his tone devoid of emotion. The question was really, _'did you find Theresa?' _but there was a part of him that didn't want to know, that was afraid of what the answer might be.

"_Yeah," Raphael answered, "Ethan is the one who has Theresa. He shot our Goddamn dog." _

Leonardo clenched his jaw tightly, his blood quickening in his veins. "How do you know?" The leader asked harshly.

"_I'm at Theresa's law firm. I just had an interesting conversation with Justin Hunt," _there was a brief moment of muffled conversation before Raphael continued. _"Anyway," _he continued, his voice waspish,_ "I went through Ethan's office drawers and found a lease to a house he owns about twenty miles from here, on the north end. Send Donny and get your ass up here… I don't think he'd be there but someone needs to check it out to make sure." _

"Why wouldn't he be there?" Leo asked, confused, but already motioning for Donny to come forward.

"_I'll explain when you get here… The address is 1274 Thatcher Blvd."_ Raphael gave hurried directions and then added, _"Tell Don to get there fast, to take Theresa's car. And then get your ass over here Leo!" _

And then the call was ended and Leonardo snapped his phone shut. He relayed the message to Donny, who nodded and said nothing, only turning and making his way to the adjacent parking lot where he knew Theresa's car would be.

Once Donatello was out of sight Leo motioned for Corbin and Tommy to follow him, making his way quickly but surreptitiously down the sidewalk, passing unnoticed by a laughing couple under the cover of the pawn shop's awning. Corbin kept close to his heels, and Tommy behind Corbin, snarling and muttering under his breath the whole time.

_Where could Theresa be?_ Leonardo thought. Why wouldn't Ethan have her at his home? And why did Raphael seem so sure that it was Ethan who was Theresa's stalker and kidnapper?

It was these thoughts that plagued him for the fist half of the walk/run to Theresa's law firm. They distracted Leo so much so that when Tommy suddenly ran out into the middle of the street and stepped in front of a taxi, the turtle was taken almost completely by surprise. The leader made to move forward and grab Tommy, but halted in his tracks, seeing that the street was semi-populated. Leonardo was hit was the realization that Tommy had probably relied heavily on the fact that Leonardo would not reveal himself to aid him in his escape. The knowledge of this had Leo almost angry enough to spring forward and damn the witnesses and the consequences.

_Almost…_

As it was, Tommy scrambled into the back of the taxi without the hindering pursuit of Leonardo. Corbin, however, was hot on his heels, trying in vain to grab onto the handle of the car door.

There was a scuffling as the two men tugged urgently at the door before Tommy shouted, "_GO_!" and the Taxi sped off, leaving Corbin to stumble away fro the vehicle least he get run over, coughing and cursing in a cloud of tire tract.

"SHIT!" Corbin shouted in fury. "_SHIT_! …Mother fucking _**bull shit**_!"

The shouting was drawing attention to passersby, and many were stopping to watch and gape at Corbin, who was still standing in the middle of the street, hesitantly.

Leo had stood rooted to the spot through the entire ordeal, grasping onto the reality that he had no disguise and that he would be adversely exposing himself if he were to step into the street and drag Corbin to the shadows.

"_Corbin_!" Leonardo finally barked, and the blonde's head spun to where Leo was before he huffed he strode angrily to the turtle that was still in the dark shadows of the buildings.

"He's fucking left!" Corbin snarled as he stood before Leonardo. "I _knew_ it! I knew he was gonna fucking split! _FUCK_!"

"_Corbin_," Leo said once more, a feral bite to his tone this time, and Corbin's head snapped to attention.

Leonardo inhaled through his nose, his mind flying a mile a minute with surreptitious thoughts, quickly formulating a plan of action.

"Corbin," he began. "Catch a taxi and follow him. _Please_." Leo's voice was firm, his thoughts now in overdrive. He knew that if Tommy made it to Benito, than Theresa's older brother was either dead or he was talking…more than likely he'd be doing a bit of both. And while Leonardo couldn't bring himself to be excessively concerned about the life of a man like Thomas Colden, he _did_ care that information like what Tommy had about Parker McCoy's death shouldn't reach Benito Escobar until a _much_ later date.

And the death of Thomas Colden, as infuriating as the man was, would not be something Leonardo would allow himself to carry on his shoulders.

"Follow Tommy and get him away from Benito. _Make him_ get back here. Call me when you find him, but if he's already found Benito just get back here. Don't play hero, and don't go in there by yourself. Just let him go and _**get back here.**_ Do you understand?"

Leonardo's voice held the commanding brashness that identified him as a leader, a no-nonsense bite that was almost impossible to defy, and Corbin could only nod, his face grave and serious.

"Get back here, I get it," Corbin said- mostly to himself. "No playing hero. …I know where he's going, I'll get him."

Leo nodded, his eyes grave and serious as he studied Corbin, and Corbin breathed deeply as if to steady himself.

"I'll get him," the blonde repeated, looking Leonardo dead in the eyes as if to reassure not only the leader, but himself as well. Then Corbin was turning and running to the curb, urgently hailing a Taxi. It only took a moment for a canary yellow cab to pull to the shoulder, and Corbin was in it before it had even come to a complete stop. Leonardo only caught a hurried snippet of Corbin's directions, _"To the corner of St. Clair and-"_ before Corbin was into the taxi and down the street in the same direction Tommy had gone.

Leo exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, allowing himself to take only a moment longer in standing immobile on the sidewalk before he sprung lithely deeper into the shadows, scaling the nearest brick wall and hauling himself up it. He ran full speed once he reached the rooftops, sprinting fluidly across the gaps in the close spaced New York buildings. It wasn't long before he was nearing the law firm, its lights blazing like a beacon against the closing dark of the night.

It was time to find Theresa…

_**xxx**_

Justin Hunt couldn't help but glace surreptitiously at the hulking green monster that was now cursing as he tore through Ethan Shempski's immaculate desk.

_Turtle_, he mentally corrected himself. _It's a… turtle_.

And so it was. A dark green, red banded, walking, talking, 6 foot tall _turtle_.

_Holy shit. _

As if the thing were sensing his thought, or perhaps could feel Justin's eyes on him, his head snapped and he glared intensely.

"What is this, a freak show? Keep fuckin' lookin'!"

Justin could feel his neck turn crimson as he looked quickly away from the turtle and continued in the search through Ethan's file cabinet. And with that barked command he was back to searching for something, _anything_, that would lead them to where Theresa might be, some clue that would direct them to where she was. The past half hour had been like something out of an LSD induced nightmare, and Justin couldn't help but wonder when he'd wake up from the dream he was having.

But there was a throbbing in his jaw from where the turtle had hit him, and the events unfolding felt nothing like a dream. They felt, in fact, as real as they could possibly get- with Justin's mind incredibly clear through the shock the coursed through his veins. Something from a month ago, a memory he'd long since forgotten, came floating back to him as clear as if it had only been an hour ago. He and Theresa had just gotten Dandy and Thor from the pound when Theresa's phone had began to ring. Justin remembered hearing a gruff voice on her line say,_ "What is that?"_ and Theresa, Justin recalled, had looked to the _rooftops_. She'd done this as if knowing something was there, watching her, and Justin had at the time thought that it had been an odd thing to do. Even odder when she had answered, _"Ummm… A dog?" _Because that meant that whatever had been up there watching her was asking about Thor…

_This_ was what Theresa had been looking for, what she had been talking to, when she had answered her phone outside of the pound that day. Which meant that this turtle was Theresa's friend, was someone Theresa had trusted to keep her safe. And this turtle, who was charged in _protecting_ Theresa, had the audacity to walk into Justin Hunt's office with the one hundred and twenty pound St. Bernard that she loved (and had now been _shot_ in the shoulder), and punch Justin in the face because he'd _let her get caught_. Because this _turtle_ had let Theresa stray into danger.

"What's your name?" Justin asked, flipping through a file and throwing it into a large discarded pile of similar files he'd already looked through.

"Raphael," the turtle replied, not stopping as he yanked the bottom drawer off its track and flung it across the room, papers and files spilling out of it as it slammed violently against the wall. He then proceeded to get on his hands and knees and reach into open gap where the drawer had previously been.

"Well Raphael, if she's dead I'm going to kill you."

_That_ made the turtle pause. His eyes looked unseeing down at the carpet for a moment before he raised his head and stared Justin dead in the eyes. It was very well one of the most alarming and harrowing instants in Justin's life.

"If she's dead," he said, his voice frighteningly hollow, "I'll let you."

Before either of them could say anything else the door to Ethan's office opened and Justin found himself looking at the hulking figure of _another_ turtle.

'_Go figure,'_ he though grimly.

This one was in a blue bandanna, and Raphael greeted him tersely as _Leo_. Which also meant that there had to be another turtle, because Raphael had referred to a _Donny_ in his phone conversation earlier.

"What took you so long?" Raphael asked Leo, who looked at Justin in an assessing manner before he strode across the room to stand next to his brother.

"Tommy split," Leo said, his jaw clenching furiously in what Justin assumed was anger, but Raphael only grunted as he ran his palms along the inside of the drawer.

"Corbin went after him," Leo added, "and Donny called me before I got here to let me know he's halfway to Ethan's house already… what are you looking for Raph?"

"… I'm looking for the reason Donny aint gonna find Theresa at Ethan's house."

Leo sighed in frustration, "Why?" he asked. "Why wouldn't she be there?"

"Cuz, oh-all-knowing-leader, its twenty miles away. The guys been getting around _way_ to fast to have a house so far away… All those times me and Mikey went lookin' for him an he wasn't nowhere around… he'd have to have a place nearby Theresa's apartment to pull a fast one on us. And Justin here said that Ethan drives a black Mercedes. He said one went flying by in both directions about an hour ago…"

Leo looked uncertainly at Justin again before saying, "How do you know its Ethan Raph?"

Raphael never stopped feeling slowly over the inside of the desk as he spoke. "Cause I know," he began. "Because earlier today when we were all at the lair you said you found a letter from Ethan's mom. It bothered me then but I couldn't place why. Its cuz you said it was post marked from _Florida_, but Ethan told Theresa his parents lived in _Iowa_. That's where he said he was on vacation at… the prick even bought tickets there and back to make it look plausible, I found them lyin' plain as day in his top drawer. He bought them online… must've been the cheapest thing he could find, and he didn't figure anyone would look inta' where is family really lived... Then, after I got to talking to Justin, he fessed up and said someone stole his gun. That confused me, cause why wouldn't you carry your piece on you? But Justin said it's unregistered, so he leaves it at work. And if Ethan has a gun, that's how Thor got shot."

"Where is Thor?" Leo asked, concerned for the dog that had once tried to eat him, and Raphael answered, "lying in Theresa's office… he should be fine, just needs a vet. I shoved some aspirin down his throat for the pain."

It was visibly obvious that Raphael was beyond furious that Thor had been shot. He had to stop for a moment to take a deep steadying breath, and Justin could swear that if the turtle clenched his fist any tighter he'd break his own fingers. Then he was in control, his hands running along the inside of the desk once more. There was a pregnated pause as Leo processed the information he'd been given, his eyes looking to the side in deep thought.

"So why are you looking in Ethan's desk?" Leo finally inquired.

Raphael grunted and answered, "When I asked Justin about it, he said Ethan had his desk specially brought in from a pair of brothers that do carpentry. They work free lance… which explains why Don couldn't find out who fixed Theresa's window. If Ethan stole Justin's gun, plus anything else he might have that could incriminate him, maybe he has-"

Raphael broke off mid-sentence, a humorless smile curving his lips. He yanked, and a small drawer dropped from the top of the desk.

"Maybe he has a hidden panel," Raphael finished. The turtle stood and pulled the drawer out of the small cubby it had been hidden away in, laying it on top of the desk. Justin and Leo immediately flanked either side of Raphael, looking down at the contents of the drawer.

_Pictures_. Mostly there were pictures. Polaroid's of Theresa in all kinds of different day to day situations. Raphael thumbed through them, seeing one of her coming down the stairs of the courthouse, and another of her laughing with a group of friends. There were others, one that looked like they were of higher quality and from a digital camera. These showed Theresa in states of half or full undress.

"Those are taken into her bedroom," Leo said, averting his eyes to the photo that depicted Theresa bare chested and clothed in only conservative white boy shorts as she bent across the bed.

"No shit Sherlock," Raphael snapped, slamming the photos face down and reaching again into the drawer. More photos, some with writing scrawled on the back of them identifying the date and time.

"These pictures," Raphael muttered darkly, "There's something wrong."

Justin snorted. "_Really_?" he quipped scathingly, "I hadn't notice."

"Shuddup," Raphael bit. "That aint what I meant. Look… see this one, it's taken from her fire escape." Raphael held a picture in front of them of Theresa sleeping. "But this one… Look, you can see the fire escape in this picture. Where _is_ he?"

Justin looked at the picture for a moment before his eyes diverted back to the drawer. There was a large manila envelope left. Justin grabbed it and pried it open.

"Is he on the roof of the pawn shop?" Leo was asking, eye ridges knit.

"That aint right," Raphael said. "The roofs higher than Theresa's window. …I can jump from it to her fire escape on an incline. That means he'd have to be-"

"_Inside the building_," Justin finished hurriedly, thrusting the papers at Raphael face. "It's a renters lease… he's renting a place about a block from here."

Raphael's eyes widened as he scanned the papers. "It's the pawn shop... _Shit_… He's in the building across from Theresa's apartment. That has to be where he is… We gotta go!"

It only took moments for them rush out of the office and to pile into Justin's Benz, the curly haired man insisting that it would be faster than being on foot.

And all Raphael could think was, _'he's been there the whole time…'_

_**xxx**_

Theresa had waited, and finally she could feel her waiting about to pay off. Ethan had talked for longer than she could have hoped, spouting off about his love and obsession in a fanatical way, always pacing in front of her like a caged animal waiting to be released so it could maul its prey. There were several times Theresa was sure he'd notice the blood that was dripping to the floor, but Ethan seemed impervious to the evident. It was as though he had zoned in only on the fact that he had finally, after all this time caught Theresa, and not that there was still any possibility she would or could escape.

"So long, Theresa… I've waited so long," was all Ethan kept repeating, and Theresa couldn't help the involuntary chill that ran up her spine every time he said it. It was as if he were savoring the victory of "capturing" Theresa for as long as he could.

Theresa had worked her right hand halfway out of the handcuffs, and at this point she was waiting for Ethan to turn his back so she could jerk it the rest of the painful way out of the metal constraint and pry the duct tape from around her mouth.

'_One good scream,'_ was all she kept thinking. _'I just need one good scream and Leo will hear me…'_

But there was doubt in her mind. What if Leo had left her apartment to go and look for her? What if there was no one to hear her cry for help? As far as she knew the man who owned the Pawn Shop would be gone for the night, and with her luck no one on the street would hear her- or if they did they would hold to the street code of _'keep your mouth shut and mind your business.'_ She was tied so tightly to her chair that she knew there was no way she would be able to maneuver her way out of her bonds. And this flat was small, small enough that wherever Ethan was he could get to Theresa and silence her fairly quickly.

'_I only have one chance… I can't mess this up… I only have one chance…' _

"Its time, Theresa," Ethan was saying, and Theresa snapped to attention.

_Time? For what?_ Her eyes conveyed the message, but Ethan only grinned. He took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes for a moment. It was as though he were in the most passionate form of ecstasy, his head lolling back and a soft sigh escaping his lips. When his eyes opened they were dark and intense. The primal obsession they acquired alighted a new fear in Theresa, and quickly she was edging her hand out of the cuff link.

She knew that look. It was the look a lover might give when he was feeling particularly aroused. But the way Ethan looked at her, the needy, hungry way his eyes bore into her own, made Theresa feel violated and disgusted.

Her hand was entirely out of the hand cuff now, and all she could think was, _'if I can't scream, at least I'll have a hand free… I'll rip out his throat if he comes near me…'_

And then Ethan sighed and turned on a heel, making his way to the back of the flat and entering the door that Theresa had correctly assumed was a bathroom. As soon was he had turned his back Theresa had her hands at the duct tape, yanking it in fervor, panicking slightly when the many wound layers of the adhesive refused to budge.

But then they were peeling back, and Theresa steadfastly ignored the pain in her wrists and the dizziness she felt from the loss of blood and the aching pain of the duct tape tearing at her lips.

She clawed until it was removed from her mouth, and even as Ethan exited from the bathroom, a wicked looking knife in his grasp, he could not reach Theresa in time to stop the one, long, piercing scream from escaping her lips.

And one rooftop away, Michelangelo jerked his head up, and he heard her.

_**xxx**_

_**Authors Note: **_Ok, so I know this took forever to post, but it took me forever to write…. I apologize, and I hope it was worth it. XD

A nice little twist is about to come…

Thanks for all your support, more to come soon! As it is, it's late, and I'm going to bed…*yawn* :)

Any mistakes I'll fix later... Like I said... late, tired, blah, blah, blah...


	22. Chapter Twenty Two, Promise Kept

_**Author's Note;**_ Just a quick note, pronouncing the characters name _Tre_ _Jo_, who will be introduced for the first time in this chapter, is said _**Tray**_ _**Ho**_.

Oh, and I don't own the turtles. Not officially.

Other than that, enjoy!

_**xxx**_

_**Chapter Twenty Two: Promise Kept**_

Donatello grimaced as Theresa's Chrysler shook and backfired noisily. It hadn't taken long for the genius to start the vehicle, but keeping it going was a trial. Every time Donny went so much as a hair above thirty the junk on wheels would sputter and start going into convulsions. He was sure that-given the appropriate amount of time- he could fix whatever was wrong with the rusting monstrosity, but as it was he was in a rush.

Although, truth be told, there really was no reason to rush. Why should he? Raphael had sent him to a dead end, and he knew it. Because Donatello was certain, with every fiber in his body, that Theresa would not be at Ethan Shempski's home on Thatcher Boulevard.

'_It's too far away,'_ Donatello kept thinking, his jaw clenching with that knowledge. In his heart of hearts Donny knew that he would not find Theresa in a home nearly _twenty miles_ away from her apartment. Ethan Shempski would not commute back and forth between his home and Theresa's apartment. It was too much of a hassle, too much of an inconvenience. And furthermore, Ethan lived just far enough out of town that his house was in the suburbs. The well mannered Jewish attorney struck Donatello as intelligent enough to know that he'd be more likely to have witnesses to his crime in a suburb. People who lived in a white picket community were typically close knit and had the characteristic qualities that made them so amiable. They had neighborhood watch and nosey housewives and prompt police response for any suspicious activity. No, Ethan was too smart to slip like this.

Thatcher Boulevard was most certainly a dead end

But even with that knowledge Donatello pushed the brown Chrysler onward, ignoring the way the entire vehicle began to shake and tremor.

'_What if I'm wrong… what if I turn around and she __**is**__ at Ethan's house… I know it's unlikely, I know its wrong, but if __**I'm**__ wrong…But if I turn now and I could have saved her… Jesus.'_

If he was wrong, and Theresa did happen to be at Thatcher Boulevard, Donatello would never be able to inhale sweet air through his unworthy lungs again. He'd never be able to sleep soundly at night, never be able to see his reflection in a mirror and not cringe in disgust and self pity. If he turned now and headed back to the city, as every fiber in his body was screaming for him to do, he'd die of shame and anguish if he were wrong, and he missed saving Theresa because of some miscalculated logic.

And so Donatello continued down a road he knew was leading him to nowhere fast, comprehending he was going in the opposite of the direction of where Theresa would be found, but down the road he went, nevertheless.

It was all he could do to save his sanity.

_**xxx**_

Corbin Castillo's eyes narrowed as the taxi slammed to a halt at his word. Less than a quarter mile down the road Thomas Colden was slipping out of his own taxi, throwing bills at the cabbie through the passenger window. Corbin waited until Tommy's taxi sped away before he handed his own cab driver a twenty and exited the vehicle. The blonde tried to be as stealthy as possible, but it was impossible considering the close proximity he and Tommy were in. As soon as the cab's door shut Tommy's head whipped in Corbin's direction.

Corbin opened his mouth and was on the verge of yelling for Tommy to stop, but Tommy bolted without waiting to hearing a word.

"Fuck," Corbin cursed under his breath, and the agile ex-convict sprinted down the sidewalk after him.

Corbin's mind was racing. He knew where they were, knew just what territory he'd negligently stepped into, and if he didn't get a hold of Tommy soon they would both be royally screwed.

"Tommy!" he shouted, throwing all caution to the wind. "_TOMMY_!"

They were deep in South Side territory now, running past the infamous St. Clair and Third intersection as Corbin yelled Tommy's name once more and pushed himself faster, vaguely registering that he was much more fit than he'd been a mere month ago. The training with Leonardo had certainly paid off, because the blonde was quickly closing the space between himself and Tommy. He was, in fact, only just over an arms length away when a grey folding chair appeared from nowhere and hit Tommy square in the forehead, making him collapse instantaneously without so much as a groan.

Corbin skidded to halt, standing over Tommy in dull shock. The chair had been produced out of an open warehouse doorway, and a tall Hispanic man stepped out from behind the door, clutching the chair firmly in his meaty fists and grinning down at the limp body of Tommy.

"Tre Jo," Corbin mumbled numbly, recognizing the tall man in front of him as one of Benito Escobar's closest friends.

Tre Jo Ramirez's sharp brown eyes met Corbin's crystal blue. There was a delight that danced behind them, a calculating joy as the man, who was six foot three in height, stared down Corbin. Unconsciously Corbin straightened, determined to make himself taller than he already was, but still feeling dwarfed by Tre Jo's bulk and stature. Tre Jo was deeply scared on his cheeks and had multiple tattoos that were visible down his neck and corded arms. His long black hair was tied back in a slick pony tail, and he wore heavy combat boots with brightly polished steel toes.

"Corbin," Tre Jo replied jovially, no trace of accent in his voice. He raised a hand and waved shortly at Corbin, and because of the street lights Corbin could see that a dark black cross was tattooed on his palm. Tre Jo's teeth gleamed white as he smiled at Corbin.

"What are you doing in South Side? I know you can't think you're welcome here. Not after a month long hiatus," Tre Jo's wide grin remained, but his voice held an edge to it that was almost undetectable under his sociable tone.

Corbin hesitated a moment. He could hear footsteps behind him, quickly accounting to at least five people that had now surrounded him. "Just… just trying to get this asshole out of South Side… He's a slow learner."

Corbin gestured lamely down at the unmoving body of Tommy, his heart beating wildly in his chest. _'I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die_,' was all that kept running through Corbin's mind.

"Hey, one a' you call Benito, get him to the wherehouse," Tre Jo said to an unseen person behind Corbin, and immediately Corbin was lifting his hands in front of his chest and saying, "Hey, you don't gotta do that Tre. I'll be going right now… with Tommy too."

Tre Jo threw his head back and laughed into the night sky. "Corbin my man, you really think I'm that stupid? You insult me! You and this royal piece of shit's been missin' for over a month now, and then when you two appear outta the blue, you think I'm just gonna let you walk? You must be more _loco_ than they say, Castillo."

Corbin's eyes narrowed slightly. He could here feet running off to call Benito and knew that he didn't have much time before the maniac ex-cop arrived. "Then just let me go," he tried; making his voice could as casual as he could muster. "I've got nothing to do with Tommy's problems."

Corbin found himself remembering Leonardo's words of warning and couldn't help but cringe.

"_Follow Tommy and get him away from Benito. Make him get back here. Call me when you find him, but if he's already found Benito just get back here. Don't play hero, and don't go in there by yourself. Just let him go and __**get back here.**__ Do you understand?" _

He had already strayed from the plan. As soon as Tommy had first stepped his ungrateful foot onto Third Street Corbin should have given up chase and hightailed it out of the ghetto. He was sure that Leo and Raph and Donny could all use his help in the search for Theresa, and she was well worth the effort of finding compared to loosing this poor excuse for a human being at his feet. But still, twelve years of friendship was a hard thing to turn one's back on, and Corbin knew even as he claimed that he had no business in Tommy's problematic situation it was a lie. Nearly twelve years of thinking that Thomas Colden was as close to family he could get suggested otherwise.

Tre Jo's brows raised high. "You know Castillo, there aint nothin I hate more than a guy who's willing to walk out on his friend. Mean's you aint a real friend, mean's you just a _dog_. Side's, you been gone with Tommy, and that means you've been helping this worthless piece of shit hide."

Tre Jo's grin then spread evilly wide. "…You left all your shit at loose ends too, Castillo," he said. "And I think Benito needs to talk to you about that. All those girls you left on the street without protection… Man, Benito had fun with them."

Corbin momentarily saw red. It was no secret what Benito did to prostitutes, and in truth Corbin hadn't thought that any of the girls in his employ would be in danger without him around. On the street Corbin's anger was well known. Any man who had ever tried to manhandle or mistreat a girl under his wing was taken care of with what sometimes turned into deadly force. Even Benito, who was notorious for raping and torturing prostitutes at his own whim, stayed away from Corbin's girls. More than likely Benito's aversion was out of no real fear of Corbin, but a fear of the numerous friends Corbin had gathered in his fists throughout the years. To anger Corbin Castillo, who was claimed by no one gang, was to anger multiple thugs like Emmanuel and Roberto Vasquez, brothers who were well know drug runners and coke lords. Or Frankie Salvatore, who was the leader of a Manhattan faction of the Mob and was know to be at times equally as ruthless as Benito.

Corbin's jaw clenched fiercely and the almost urethral voice of Leonardo rang sharply in his mind. Without warning Corbin was remembering a past lesson in the lairs dojo. They had been seated cross legged on a training mat and each man was facing the other. It had been some many weeks ago, but still Corbin remembered the discussion with a clear and comprehensive recollection.

"_Your enemy has you surrounded. Your enemy has weapons. You cannot out talk, out run, or out fight your enemy… what do you do?"_

_Corbin's brown knitted. "… Er, are you sure I can't just talk my way outta this?" _

_Leonardo's lips tugged slightly at the corners. _

"_You cannot out talk, out run, or out fight your enemy, what do you do?" Leonardo repeated. _

_There was silence as Corbin chewed on his lip and thought of what he would do. Not give up, certainly, and neither would he beg nor bargain for his life, each being as equally repulsive solutions as the next. _

"_This is a trick question," Corbin finally said, his frustration evident. _

_Leonardo arched an eye ridge. "Oh?" _

"_Yeah. Just cause I can't get away or nothin' don't mean I can't try… Right? I mean, there aint nothin' else for me to do but fight…" _

_Corbin's voice trailed into silence at the look on Leonardo's face. The blue banded leader was smiling openly now. _

"_**That**__, Castillo-San, is correct. No matter what you are up against, you never surrender. Just because you cannot out run, out talk, or out fight your enemy, does not mean you cannot die trying."_

Corbin felt as though his heart would beat out of his chest.

"Die trying," he muttered, and Tre Jo's head cocked slightly to the side.

"What was that, Castillo?" he asked in a light heated voice.

Corbin's palms went into fists at his sides. "I said, _die_ _trying_."

And without warning Corbin leaped forward and with his clenched fist hit Tre Jo's adams apple with lightning fast reflexes, causing the swarthy skinned man to release his hold of the folding chair and drop unceremoniously to his knees, eyes bugging as he gasped for breath. Immediately Corbin positioned himself behind Tre Jo, hefting the man to his feet with a firm arm placed around his neck, effectively putting him in a choke hold. Four of Benito Escobar's men stood facing him now, weapons cocked and aimed in Corbin's direction, but they had been too stunned to even fire a shot before Corbin had effectively made Tre Jo into a shield.

"Put your fuckin' weapons down!" Corbin bellowed, pulling a silver platted barretta out of the back of Tre Jo's waistband and pointing it at his four adversaries. The men shifted nervously as Corbin sighted the nearest one's forehead and cocked the trigger. When the men did not lower their firearms Corbin hastily pointed the gun he now possessed to Tre Jo's temple.

"Put em' down or I'll fuckin' shoot this piece of shit! …_NOW_!"

There was a moment of pregnated hesitation where the only sound was Tre Jo panting desperately for breath, before the men slowly put their weapons to the ground.

"Kick them away!" Corbin commanded, and the men grudgingly toed the weapons away from them.

Corbin pointed the gun to the men in front of him, none of them anyone he recognized, and all of them looking quite young. "Hands up… _Up_!" He shouted, and the four complied. It was hard to tell in the darkness that surrounded them, but Corbin could not see any cross tattoos on the men's raised palms. That led him to the conclusion that Tre Jo had been training new recruits in the warehouse and had happened to hear Corbin yelling for Tommy.

'_Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should'a kept my mouth shut…' _He thought, wondering how much time he had before Benito and his men showed up. It could only have been just over five minute ago that the absent recruit had run to tell his leader where Corbin and Tommy were.

Corbin was breathing erratically now, his fear and anger enshrouding him as he looked helplessly to the road.

'_I need a cab,'_ he though frantically, and he tightened his arm around Tre Jo's neck as the man began to struggle.

"You are such a piece of _shit_," Corbin hissed in Tre Jo's ear, pressing the gun firmly to the man's temple once more. "I'll fucking kill you before this is over."

It was then that Corbin felt the indisputable pressure of what could only be a shot gun pressed between his shoulder blades.

"Corbin," a deep and gravely voice said from behind him, "let's stop this Clint Eastwood stand off bull shit, eh? Drop your fuckin' piece and let go of my amigo… maybe I'll let you die quickly."

Corbin felt his world come to a screeching halt as the voice of Benito Escobar rang in his ears, realizing that the man must have gone around the warehouse in order to come up behind Corbin and take him by surprise. Leonardo's voice replayed another lesson in Corbin's mind, this time telling him of his mistake.

'_Always be aware of your surroundings," _Leonardo had said firmly_. "And if you're outnumbered, put your back against the nearest wall… As wrong as it feels to corner yourself like that, it's a better vantage point, and you'll be able to see what's coming and what's around you…'_

He'd kept himself blind to what was behind him, and now because of his own inattention he was paying for it. Inwardly he cursed himself for being too angry and panicky to think of a possible sneak attack from the rear.

"Fuck you Benito," Corbin said nervously, and he felt the pressure of the shot gun increase between his shoulders.

Behind him Corbin heard Benito sigh. "Corbin, there aint nothin' else for you to do… Now put that barretta away from Tre Jo's brains and maybe we can talk about releasin' the last couple prostitutes of yours I've got locked away in this very warehouse… I'm sure they'd be glad to get to a hospital…"

"You lie like a fuckin' snake Benito," Corbin snarled, the muscles in his arms straining as he tightened his grip on Tre Jo, hoping against hope that he was choking the man to death.

Benito sighed again. "I'm tired of this shit," he said on an exhale, and before Corbin had time to pull the trigger and end Tre Jo's life he felt the pressure of the shot gun on his back released, following with the butt of said shot gun crashing down on the side of his skull.

Corbin saw red and collapsed, his whole world going dark and blurry. The last thing he heard was Benito saying, "Get these assholes into the warehouse and tie them by their wrists to-"

And then there was only the black shroud of unconsciousness.

_**xxx**_

Michelangelo's head snapped to the second floor window of the pawn shop and felt his body go cold with numb shock. He'd been doing what he did almost every night lately; sitting on Theresa's rooftop, smoking the glass pipe he'd recently bought, and listening to his ipod.

'_Hello there, the angel from my nightmare, the shadow in the background of the morgue. _

_The unsuspecting victim, of darkness in the valley, we can live like Jack and Sally if we want. _

_And you can always find me, and we'll have Halloween on Christmas. And in the night we'll wish this never ends, wish this never ends.' _

Michelangelo had listened to the depressing Blink 182 song for only a moment longer before he skipped it in hopes of something more upbeat. It was in that moment of silence, before the new song could begin to play, that he heard the piercing scream.

The shock of hearing it only lasted for a moment. Then Michelangelo was dropping his beautiful glass pipe (it was a deep royal blue with flecks of green and gold in it, and was quite an interesting thing to examine while riding on a major high), and the sound of it breaking against the cement rooftop dulled as a new song lilted into Michelangelo's ears.

'_I held onto you for as long as I could but today, you fell away…'_

The turtle ripped the headphones away from his ears (the ipod also breaking with the force in which it hit ground) and in a matter of three seconds he had raced to the edge of the building and without second thought threw himself from the roof and crashed into the only window on the second story of the pawn shop.

Shards of glass exploded around Michelangelo as he curled into himself, wincing as he felt as particularly large shard wedge itself deeply into his upper right arm. He extended his legs and landed fluidly on his feet inside of the building, his arms extended to keep himself balanced.

The sight Michelangelo was greeted with made his heart momentarily stop beating in his chest. Theresa, wide eyed and obviously frightened, was bound tightly to a chair in the middle of the room. Towering over her was Ethan Shempski, a hand clasped firmly over her mouth and a knife held at her throat. The nondescript looking attorney was looking in shock at Michelangelo, his mouth dropping open at the sight of what many saw as a _monster_.

Michelangelo stood immobile for barely a second before he lunged at Ethan with the speed of a Ninjitsu master, a feral growl emitting from his throat. He pushed the man away from Theresa and knocked the knife out of his hand- sending it flying across the room. The two toppled to the floor, Ethan only able to make a surprised, _"Oomph!'_ sound as the air was knocked out of his lungs. They rolled once, twice, and only stopped once Michelangelo had pinned Ethan beneath him. Ethan clawed at his belt for the gun that was tucked in his waistband, but Michelangelo ripped it from his hands and threw it unseeingly behind him. The turtle ruthlessly pulled Ethan up by his shirt before slamming the man's head violently down on the hard wood floors. Ethan's eyes rolled and the man went limp, and Michelangelo knew that he'd fainted from shock. The head trauma was minor. Mikey snarled and stood, lifting Ethan's unmoving body by the scuff of his shirt.

"Mikey!"

The voice calling his name was weak and full of fear and relief, and the desperate tone of it made him stop just short of throwing Ethan Shempski across the room. As it was his eyes met Theresa's and he dropped the man unceremoniously to the floor.

Michelangelo stepped towards Theresa, his expression momentarily pained as he took in the callous way she'd been tied to the hard backed chair. He redirected his gaze and looked across the room for the knife. Seeing it in the corner he picked it up and returned to Theresa. He grit his teeth as he sliced through the tightly bound cords of rope around Theresa's legs, remembering how the knife had been held at Theresa's throat and feeling his heart hammer in his breast.

"Mikey…" Theresa began, but Michelangelo did not answer. He took the knife and carefully cut through the rope around her waist. When the constricting bondage was removed he pulled Theresa to her feet unceremoniously. Tears were running silently down her cheeks.

"How the hell did this happen?" Michelangelo finally asked, his voice full of anger as he ignored her tears.

Theresa shook her head. "I… I d-d-on't know. I-I was just w-w-walking… walking Thor," she was sobbing now, nearly in hysterics.

"Where the hell was Raph?!" Mikey ground out, his eyes flashing and his grip tightening just slightly on her arm.

"We f-f-ought," Theresa stammered out, and Michelangelo's eyes' softened and he loosened his grip.

"He left you alone?" Michelangelo asked, his voice more controlled now

Theresa nodded, and then cried out, "…I'm sorry! I shouldn't have left the apartment, I know! I'm sorry!" She was now shaking and gasping as she sobbed, her knees buckling in her fatigue.

Michelangelo caught Theresa, pulling her to him and scooping her into his arms, making soft shushing noises as he turned and sat on the chair, guiding Theresa onto his lap. She weeped into his neck, her arm wrapping tightly around him and her irrepressible cries growing louder as he swayed them back in forth. He ran his hands soothingly through her hair, feeling the duct tape that was still wrapped around her head and neck and wincing.

"It's ok now… It's ok. This is never going to happen again, you're safe… it's ok."

It was as he said it that Michelangelo could feel his own eyes begin swimming with tears.

"I almost lost you," he rasped, his body trembling, and he held Theresa more tightly in his arms, burying his face into her shoulder and taking a deep breath to calm himself. It wouldn't do for both of them to be sobbing over this.

He pushed Theresa gently off his shoulder then, looking at her face.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked, looking at Theresa's neck to make sure the knife hadn't nicked her when he had pushed Ethan onto the floor.

Theresa shook her head. "Not really," she said, and she lifted her arm to wipe away her tears. Michelangelo's eyes honed in as he saw blood gushing from her wrist and his eyes widened.

"What the hell happened?!" he exclaimed, grabbing her hand and holding it close to his narrowed eyes, inspecting the wound.

"Oh, _that_. I knew I had to get out of the handcuffs, but they were too tight," her voice was on the edge of hysteria, and she spoke rapidly, as if her words could not come quickly enough.

"Ethan told me we were c-c-close to my apartment," she continued. "So I was h-hoping that if I screamed someone would hear me. …But the handcuffs were too tight, and I couldn't get out of them. I needed to get out of them to pull away the duct tape. But I remember from a b-b-book I read, and there was this girl, and she used blood to get out of her handcuffs, so that's that I did. And I-"

She was rambling, and Michelangelo stopped her, hoping that he could quail what he knew were the first stages of shock.

"Shhh… Its ok, I get it."

Theresa nodded vigorously, he eyes watering again.

"I was so scared," she whispered.

Michelangelo's jaw tightened. "You're okay now," he said firmly. He reached a free hand and pulled off his mask. He then wound it tightly around her wrist.

"Hold your hand over this and keep pressure on it, okay?" He said, noticing that her other hand still had a silver handcuff attached to her wrist.

Theresa nodded and did as he asked before she laid her head back on his shoulder. "I'm tired, Mikey," she said.

Michelangelo ignored the panic that was building up in him and stood, carrying Theresa bride style to the broken window.

"Don't go to sleep, kid," he said, peering into the darkness, wondering if any neighbors had bothered to call the police.

Probably not.

"That was really smart of you, to use blood to get out of the handcuffs. Tell me what happened, stay awake."

It took a moment for Theresa to begin talking and Michelangelo worried in that time that she had already drifted off into unconsciousness. It would be dangerous for her to sleep now, he knew. And besides that, she looked as though she had lost a great amount of blood.

"I was walking Thor," she finally answered lethargically, her crying subdued for the moment as fatigue steadily took over. "And… and we walked farther than we usually do. And then Ethan pulled up next to us. And he made me get in the car… And he shot Thor, Mikey. Then he made me sleep… and when I woke up he hit me, I think. …I can't remember now."

Michelangelo's eyes momentarily focused in anger at the man lying limp on the floor.

"He _hit_ you?"

Theresa nodded sleepily. "I think so."

There was silence as Michelangelo reigned in his rage, wondering what he was going to do next.

"Mikey…" Theresa whispered, breaking him from his thoughts. "You've been gone so long."

Before Michelangelo could respond (and he'd opened his mouth to do so), the door across the room crashed open, and Raphael, Leonardo, and Justin Hunt all rushed into the flat.

Thy stopped short, taking in the scene. Michelangelo was standing, maskless, in front of a broken window, with Theresa limp in his arms. On the ground was an unconscious Ethan Shempski, who was bleeding freely from a head wound.

"You're a bit late," Michelangelo spat angrily.

"Theresa!" Raphael exclaimed, nearly tripping over Ethan's body in his hurry to cross the room.

"Raph?" Theresa's eyes peered unseeing to where Raphael now stood hovering next to Michelangelo.

"Leo," Mikey said in a biting tone, "take Theresa for a second."

Leonardo glanced hesitantly between Michelangelo (whose face was contorted in fury), and Raphael (who was looking down at Theresa with an expression that was both frightened and alarmed). Then he walked across the room, stepping carefully over Ethan's unmoving body, and gathered Theresa into his arms.

"Mike," she mumbled incoherently, gripping Michelangelo's hand before settling into Leonardo's arms. Raphael's expression was pained.

Michelangelo breathed deeply and said, "Leo, take her to her apartment… Call Amy and tell her to bring medical supplies. She has a lot of blood coming from that wrist and my mask isn't going to last long. Make her talk to you; she can't fall asleep right now. And Leo… don't call the police; we're taking care of this."

Leonardo looked down at the woman in his arms. She was gripping the cloth tied to her wrist, although it was no longer orange but seeping with the bright red of fresh blood. Her cheek was slightly bruised and there was skin that was torn from her lips as a result of pulling the dust tape harshly away from her face. Trails of dried tears were tracked down her cheeks, and a slight bruise was appearing on her forehead. Her red rimmed eyes were unfocused, and Leonardo could tell that it was an effort for her to keep them open.

"Leo, _go_," Mikey commanded, and Leonardo jerked his head to meet his brother's hard stare.

"… Do it slowly Mike," was all he said before turning and rushing from the room.

Once Leo had gone Michelangelo turned to Raphael, who had remained quiet through the exchange.

"_You_," Michelangelo alleged, and before he could react Mikey had hit Raphael across his jaw with an iron fist

Raphael stumbled but did not fall. Alarmed, Justin jumped forward and wedged himself between the two.

"_You left her_!" Michelangelo exclaimed, not attempting to remove Justin but instead taking several steps backwards, his head spinning as he tried to control his anger. He wanted nothing more than to snap his brother's neck at the moment. As it was, he knelt and put his hands on his knees, leaning against the wall and waiting for his vertigo to right itself.

Raphael worked his jaw, a hand wiping away the blood from his now split lip.

"Listen, I know I fucked up, but you hit me again and I'm gonna break your legs."

Raphael spit blood onto the floor and looked over to Ethan's unmoving body. Rage washed over him as he remembered just how badly Theresa had looked. She'd been pale and tousled, bruised and bloodied and beaten.

The red banded turtle pushed the thoughts away, along with his concern for Theresa, and glanced at Justin. "You sure you wanna stay for this? Leo could prob'ly use your help…"

Justin looked at Ethan, who was obviously still breathing, and shook his head slowly. "I'll stay," he said, resolved.

Raphael nodded mutely and moved forward, unsheathing a sai as he approached Ethan's limp body. He was halfway to the cataleptic body when a firm hand gripping his upper arm stopped him, and Raphael turned to look in question at Michelangelo.

"What are you doing?" Mikey asked, his face now a blank mask.

Raphael was temporarily distracted by the glint in Michelangelo's eyes and the calmness in his voice. Then he answered, "I'm taking care of this."

Michelangelo raised an eye ridge. "No your not," he said simply, as though Raphael were delusional for thinking otherwise.

Anger contorted Raphael's featured. "What the hell are you talkin' about Mike?! This piece of shit deserves to die for what he did!"

Michelangelo looked expressionlessly at his brother. "Don't you remember our conversation?" he asked quietly, and a wave of nausea washed over Raphael as he realized what Michelangelo was implying.

_(…flashback…) _

"_There was nothing any of you could do," Michelangelo said firmly. "There's __**still**__ nothing any of you can do. You don't get it. I… I couldn't save her. I couldn't make her stay alive. I got there, and that guy was out the window, and she just wouldn't breath. All she had to do was take in air. But she was pale… and __**I couldn't make her breath**__." _

_Michelangelo looked at Raphael, his big blue eyes wide and glassy. "That's what will happen to Theresa, Raph, if you don't save her. She won't breath. You'll find her pale, and cold, and no matter what you do, she won't breath."_

_Raphael's eyes were wide, his eye ridges raised high in alarm._

_Michelangelo sighed and looked seriously at his older brother. "So don't talk to me about being an asshole, Raph. When you find this guy who's stalking her, when we finally catch up with him, its me. Because if its not, if you kill him, then you wont be able to live with it. I know it seems stupid, but when I caught up with Jade's… When I killed him… I didn't even care. Jade wasn't breathing, so he didn't get to either. It was that simple. It won't be the same for you. Emotions… they'll get in the way."_

_Raphael took a deep breath, "I don't get it Mikey… We've all killed…" _

"_Not this way… This is different. Just… just say it's me Raph. If you change your mind, then we'll cross that bridge. But for now, just say it's me." _

_Raphael looked down at the ground then back up at his brother. _

"_It's you." He conceded in a whisper. _

_Michelangelo sighed in relief. "Okay."_

_(… End flashback…) _

Raphael looked at his brother in weary distress as he remembered the conversation. They had been on Theresa's rooftop, and the night had enclosed them as they had waited for the police to leave Theresa's apartment. It had been one of the last attempts on her life until this point, and at the time Raphael had not thought that he would actually have to grant Michelangelo his need to kill Theresa's stalker. At that point, Raphael had still held some hope that he'd be the one to catch up with her stalker- _without_ Mikey.

Michelangelo nodded once, as if he also saw what Raphael now comprehended, and shouldered past his brother, kneeling down and lifting Ethan so that he was in a sitting position against the wall. A glint in the corner of the room caught Michelangelo's eye, and deftly he stood and retrieved the black 9mm glock from its place on the floor.

Michelangelo held the gun up for Raphael and Justin to see.

"Good thing he didn't wake up and try to use this while we weren't paying attention," Michelangelo said, his voice impassive. He pulled back the trigger and released the clip.

"That's my gun!" Justin said, walking forward and taking his missing 9mm from Michelangelo, shoving the clip into his jacket and the gun into his own waistband.

Michelangelo did not protest but instead raised his eye ridges in question towards Justin.

"…What? He stole it form my office!" Justin explained, gesturing down at Ethan.

"…You're sure he's not involved in this Raph?" Mikey asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously at Justin.

Justin huffed. "I most certainly am not! I may be an asshole, but I'm not a fuckin' rapist, murderer, stalker… whatever you wanna call this douche bag. Look at my face," Justin pointed to himself, "Do I look like I need to rape a woman to get some ass?"

Raphael and Michelangelo shared a look, and Raphael rolled his eyes.

"He's not involved… you can hit him if you want though."

Michelangelo grimaced and turned back to Ethan. He knelt so that he was eye level with the man, rocking back on his heels.

"Hey, asshole," he murmured, slapping Ethan's face forcefully. "Wake up."

It took a minute of coaxing by Michelangelo before Ethan's eyes slowly began to open. When they focused in on the turtle looming in front of him Ethan gave a surprised '_eep_,' and made to stand up.

"Hey now, don't get up… you've got a head injury my man. Just stay there and we'll have a talk…"

Raphael felt an involuntary chill run down his spine as he listened to Michelangelo talk to Ethan. His youngest brother spoke to the man as if they were old friends, and his voice was eerily relaxed.

"W-who… _what_ are you?" Ethan stammered, his breathing heavy and his voice slightly panicked.

Michelangelo gave a slight half smile. "I'm the guy who's gonna fuckin' kill you."

Ethan's eyes grew wide, and it was only then that he looked at his surroundings. Over Michelangelo's right shoulder stood Raphael… another _monster_. But over his left shoulder was a familiar face. Over his left shoulder was-

"Justin! Justin, help me!"

Justin Hunt felt his stomach turn and twist, and he had to swallow hard to keep himself from losing his dinner.

"Ethan, you did this to yourself," he muttered, looking away from the man's pleading eyes.

Ethan gasped air into his lungs, but before he could scream a quick hand shot out and covered his mouth.

"Shut up," Michelangelo said firmly. "I have questions to ask you… and maybe if you answer them I'll let you live."

A look passed between turtle and man, cold blue eyes meeting frightened hazel, and Ethan nodded vigorously.

Michelangelo kept his hand over Ethan's mouth and asked, "Is Theresa the first girl you've done this to? Don't lie… I'll know if you lie."

Michelangelo uncovered Ethan's mouth and the man swallowed hard. His eyes silently pleaded once more in Justin's direction, but the young attorney looked away and scowled.

Ethan looked once more into the oddly bright blue eyes of Michelangelo. "I-I-I… I don't know what you-"

Michelangelo's open palm knocked hard against the head wound Ethan had procured on his swift trip to the hardwood floor, and the blinding pain it caused him made him howl and fall to his side. Behind Mikey both Raphael and Justin flinched.

"I said don't lie Ethan," Michelangelo hauled Ethan back into a seated position by the scruff of his shirt. "Tell me… _**now**_."

Ethan panted and cursed, holding the side of his head in pain.

"No!" he exclaimed. "She wasn't… she wasn't the first!"

Michelangelo's jaw tightened. "How many were there?" he growled.

"Just… Just one other. In Florida…. She was probably seventeen or eighteen… I swear that was all!"

Mikey glared at the man in front of him. "That was all? Don't you think that was enough?"

His fist, a mere blur, swiftly shot out and slammed into the side of Ethan's body, the resounding crack telling of at least one broken rib. Ethan screamed in pain and agony, withering once more face down on the floor.

"You know what I hate? I fucking hate guys like you," Michelangelo said over Ethan's sobs. The turtle reached out and pulled the man into a sitting position once more.

"Take deep breaths through your nose… the pain goes away more quickly."

Ethan did as he was told, tears running down his face, and as he did Justin straightened and turned his back, walking to the window and looking out of it. Discreetly the man stuck his head out of the window and vomited, retching until there was nothing left in his stomach.

"Now," Michelangelo continued after a few minutes. "Tell me about this other girl."

Ethan gasped, trembling as he spoke. "She w-w-was just a girl in the neighborhood… she lived close to… to my mother. Her n-n-name was S-s-susan. …Susan Furner. I could only… I could only f-follow her for a few weeks before… before she noticed me. So I… I…" He trailed off, looking fearfully at Michelangelo.

"So you…? What? Raped her? Tortured her? Killed her? …All of the above?"

Ethan nodded and flinched back, but no fist- which was what he'd been expecting- ever came.

"You're sick," Michelangelo said softly. "I don't just mean that you're twisted… I mean you're _really_ sick. This is a disease."

There was a pause in which Ethan's brain worked overtime, wondering exactly what this meant.

"Don't worry," Michelangelo said, standing so that he towered over Ethan. "I have the cure."

Raphael's eye widened as Mikey turned to him and said, "Give me a sai."

Raphael took a full step backward. This was not the code of honor and dignity he was raised with. This was not the way Hamato brothers disposed of their enemies.

"_I don't get it Mikey… We've all killed…" _

"_Not this way… This is different."_

And so it was. This was no stand off between Hun (who had been in his grave rotting for years now) and the Purple Dragons. This was certainly no showdown with The Shredder or Foot ninja or even just some local punks trying to hold up a convenience store. This was _murder_.

"Mike… Mike maybe we need to-"

"Need to what?" Michelangelo snapped. "Call the police? He'll be singing songs about green monsters and get to plea to insanity Raph. He'll be back on the streets in five years tops."

From his place by the window Justin nodded. "He's right," he interjected hoarsely, his voice sounding queasy. "If he got a good lawyer he'd be out in a year."

"And what do you think is gonna happen then Raph?" Michelangelo continued, eyes narrowed to thin slits. "You think he'll be rehabilitated? Cured? Able to live in society without any problems?"

Michelangelo's voice was mocking, and Raphael glowered. "I get it," he snarled.

"Good, because if you don't know why this needs to be done, I suggest you get a real clear image of what Theresa looked like when Leo carried her out of here," Michelangelo growled. And without further argument he reached out and took Raphael's sai from his brothers' belt.

Ethan's eyes grew wide with absolute fear as Michelangelo turned towards him. "Listen," he begged. "I… I'm sorry. Please… Justin! Help me! _Somebody_… please don't do this…"

The man sobbed as he was lifted to his feet, struggling desperately to escape Michelangelo's tight grasp.

"_Please_…" he begged, and Michelangelo's eye glinted with malice and rage.

"Ethan," he said. "Fuck you."

Raphael's blade, held expertly in Michelangelo's hand, sunk deep into Ethan Shempski's throat. There was a gurgling as the man drown in his own blood, his mouth gasping like a fish often does when it is taken out of water.

With a feral snarl Michelangelo twisted the sai and pushed it down to the hilt before yanking it out. Blood covered him, running down his green hands and arms, smearing on his plastron and face. Mikey sighed and released his hold on Ethan, who crumpled on the floor, twitching for a moment before he lay completely still. At the window Justin gagged and then retched once more.

The silence that filled the room was severe. Michelangelo stood over the body of Ethan Shempski, shoulders rising and falling as took in slow deep breaths. Justin, still at the window, swayed and clung to the sill, fighting down dry heaves and feebly wiping sweat from his brow. The man would never in all his life forget the way Ethan had called to him for help, and how he'd known that not only would he not give the aid that had been asked of him, but how he had not wanted to. And Raphael stood unmoving behind his brother, feeling slightly sick not only because of the gruesome death that had jut taken place, but also because of the gratefulness he felt at seeing Ethan's dead body.

Michelangelo turned to Raphael, who was still looking down at Ethan with a mixture of relief and pity. The red banded turtle's eyes slowly met his youngest brothers, carefully void of all emotion. Mikey turned the sai and offered the handle to Raphael, who reached for it after only a moment's hesitation.

"Your weapon, my hand. Even trade," Mikey said.

Raphael nodded briskly; taking his weapon from Michelangelo's offering hands.

Michelangelo looked around the room in a detached manner. "…. I'll drop the body… I'll dump it in the sewer somewhere," then- after a moment of pregnated silence he added, "… We need to burn this place down." His eyes bore into the back of Justin's head, who finally turned from the window and met his gaze.

"We need _gasoline_," Michelangelo said emphatically, uncaring of the way he looked, standing there covered in blood.

Justin nodded slowly and swallowed hard, trying without much progress to get the image of a blade going through Ethan's throat out of his mind. "I'm on it," he croaked, and he hurried out of the room, his eyes deliberately avoiding his colleague's unmoving body.

Raphael stopped him before he could exit, however.

"Justin," he called, and Justin stopped hesitantly at the door

"Go to the gas station on Ewing Street to get it. It's about three miles from here. It's a family owned Sunoco," Raphael said.

"I know the one," Justin replied, nodding.

"Okay, well keep your head low. Pay in cash. There aint no cameras outside so they won't get your plate numbers, but they got a pretty good camera behind the counter. Don't look at it. Just fill up a ten gallon tank and get some accelerant... Got it?"

Justin scowled. "I'm not stupid. I got it."

He turned on a heel and left, and once he was gone Mikey turned to Raphael. "You're sure we can trust him?"

Raphael looked at his brother and then shrugged. "Sure," he replied, grasping on tightly to his sanity, feeling it slip every time he caught a glimpse of Ethan's body from the corner of his eye.

"Okay," Michelangelo conceded. "Here's what we're doing… I assume that if Ethan was renting this place he wasn't doing it in his name?"

Raphael shook his head. "No, his lease is under the name Todd Shiff. He was paying the landlord three times the amount the rent should'a been."

"That's good… it will be harder to tie Ethan to this place… Did you wreck his office to find all that out?" Mikey asked.

Raphael felt his eye twitch as he remembered the way he'd flung desk drawers across the room.

"Yeah, a little," he answered.

"Alright. Just clean it up and get rid of all the evidence. And I mean _everything_. The lease, any letters or pictures… Anything that ties this piece of shit to Theresa. We can't have them connecting Ethan's disappearance and this random arson together."

Raphael nodded numbly. "I'll call Donny… He's at Ethan's house… I'll tell him to comb through it and get rid of anything he happens to find."

If Michelangelo was affected in any way by hearing Donny's name he did not let it show.

"Alright," Mikey said grimly. "Let get to work."

_**xxx**_

When Amy burst through Theresa's apartment door, a duffel bag full of medical supplies slung over her back, she was greeted with the sight of Leonardo cradling a very battered looking Theresa on the couch.

"Jesus, what happened?!"

Leonardo did not look up, but instead continued to talk softly to Theresa, ignoring Amy's inquiry.

"Amy's here, she's going to help you, and then you can go to sleep."

Amy rushed to the couch. "Lay her down, Leo," she commanded, frowning as she spotted the handcuff still linked onto Theresa's wrist.

Leonardo lay her down and stepped to the side, frowning deeply.

"Her wrist, she had to hurt herself to get out of the handcuffs…"

Leonardo trailed off as he watched Amy fling down the duffle bag and remove the many towels he's placed over Theresa's wrist. Amy then unwound Michelangelo's bandana (now red with blood). Deep red blood gushed from the open wound and Theresa whimpered in pain.

Amy gasped and held the injury tightly. "Damn it, Leo, what the hell happened? I though Raph was watching her?!"

She ranted angrily and unzipped the duffle bag, pulling out a bottle of straight alcohol and holding it out to Leo.

"Open this," she commanded.

Leonardo did as he was told, unscrewing the bottle and holding it out to Amy. The woman took it and looked seriously at Leo.

"I need you to hold her arm straight. This is going to hurt her."

Leo nodded and took Theresa's arm firmly, wincing as Amy poured the alcohol over the seeping cuts and having to steel himself against Theresa surprised cry.

"Shhh…" he soothed. "Amy is here, she's helping."

Theresa's eyes rolled as she went unconscious. Amy peered intently at the scratches. "They don't appear to be long ways… that's good. We can stitch them."

Amy worked fast to produce a needle and medical thread. Leonardo held gauze tightly over Theresa's wrist while Amy strung the thread through the needle. She then worked quickly, closing the many cuts on Theresa's left wrist, amazed at how deeply the woman had pried into her own skin. Once Theresa was stitched up she wrapped gauze tightly up her wrist.

"Can she go to the hospital?" Amy asked.

Leo thought of what could possibly happen if Theresa was admitted to the ER and shook his head.

"No… Not tonight," he answered.

Amy grimaced. "Wake her… use the salts. I'll set up an IV," she delegated to Leo, rummaging through her bag and producing a retractable IV stand.

Leonardo did as he was told, tearing open the smelling salts Amy handed to him and holding them under Theresa's nose. Theresa jerked away, her face contorting in pain.

"Hey," Leo said to her, lifting her head. "Tell me where you read that... about using blood as lubricant."

Theresa blinked in confusion. "Book," she mumbled. "Stephen King. … It was called Gerald's Game. Was... good."

Leonardo grinned. "So Stephen King helped save your life, huh?"

Theresa shook her head. "Mikey," she said in a surprisingly firm voice.

Leonardo nodded. "Yeah, Mikey."

Theresa sighed and said, "I saw Raph… Where's Raph?"

"He'll be here soon, Theresa. He had to help take care of some things," Leo replied.

Amy raised a brow and then stood over them then, "Hey, I can give her the IV on her right hand… but I'd rather get that handcuff off first. Can you get the key?"

Leo stood. "I don't know… Let me see…"

He strode past Amy to the back to the apartment, opening Theresa's window and leaning out of it.

"_Psst_. Raph…" he hissed. The pawn shops broken window had been covered by a sheet, and it was pulled to the side as Justin Hunt looked out at Leo.

"Hey," Justin said by way of greeting, looking extremely pale.

"Get Raph," Leonardo said, keeping his voice low.

Justin disappeared, and a moment later Raphael stuck his head out of the window.

"Is Theresa okay?" was the first thing he asked.

Leo nodded. "Amy say's she'll be fine. I need a key for the handcuffs… you got one?"

Raphael shrugged and disappeared once more, only to appear a minute later. Dangling between his fingers was a small silver key.

"Catch," he whispered, and he underhanded the keys across the gap. Leo easily caught the key and made to leave, but Raphael stopped him.

"Leo… this place is burning in about ten minutes. Keep the lights in Theresa's apartment off. If the police come, keep the door locked. Amy needs to give her an alibi."

Leo nodded, not fully comprehending, and on his way back to the living room he flicked off each light as he came to it.

"Here's the key," he told Amy, and together they removed the handcuffs, set up the IV, and watched anxiously as Theresa fell into a fitful sleep.

_**xxx**_

"… You're _burning_ it?"

Donatello's eye ridges knit in worry as he listened to Raphael tell him their plan. His brother sounded tired and edgy, and while Donatello had been full of relief upon hearing that Theresa had been found and was safe, he was also now concerned about the wellbeing of his brothers.

"Raph," Donny interjected, fidgeting restlessly, hefting the duffle bag he'd found in Theresa's car off his shoulder. "I get that you guys need to get rid of the evidence, but the police are still going to find it odd that the same night Ethan Shempski goes missing- one of Theresa's colleagues- is also the night a pawn shop right next to Theresa's apartment gets burned down…"

"_Don, I get that, but if there's no evidence the only thing they'll have is speculation. There's nothin' else we can do. And the missing person report won't go out until Monday at the earliest. They won't suspect anything until then. Just look in the house and get rid of anything incriminating,"_ Raphael answered, his voice annoyed.

In the back ground Donatello could hear the sloshing that could only be gasoline being poured throughout the second flood of the pawn shop.

"Where did Justin get the gas? He didn't use a credit card, did he?" Donny asked.

"_No, he aint stupid. He used cash and got it and accelerants at a gas station about three miles down the road." _

Donatello's eyes widened. "_Gas station_? Those places have _cameras_ Raph. Did he drive his car?" Donatello pushed back panic.

"_They do inside the building. The place is old and family owned though. No cameras outside. … I fill up my motorcycle there." _

His panic subsided, though it was only minuscule.

"Alright… I'll look through this place… see if there's anything here and get rid of it," Donny said. Currently the turtle was standing in Ethan's kitchen, enshrouded in darkness. All the lights were off but Donatello thought it might be a good idea to turn them on so the neighbors might think Ethan was home. That, and he needed to see to search properly.

"_Thanks Don,"_ Raphael said. Then after a slight pause he added, _"Be careful." _

The line went dead, and Donny snapped his phone shut and replaced it in his belt. He picked up the duffle bag he'd dropped at his feet and flicked on the lights as he maneuvered through the home, surreptitiously looking in cabinets, drawers, under couch cushions and inside of closets as he went. The house was a modest one story, and while it held a certain upper class flair it was quite utilitarian. There were paintings and prints on the walls, but there were very few photographs that depicted friends or family. Donny flipped through the only photo album on a book shelf (biographies and law literature), but all it held were pictures of Ethan as a child, posing with his Mother, other various family members, and at times standing in front of some sort of national treasure or monument- like the White House or the World's Largest Ball of Yarn.

As he continued through the home Donatello became more and more weary. His skin suddenly had goose bumps on every inch of it, and the farther down the hall he went the more spooked he became. Not to say that he was necessarily _afraid_, but he was becoming quite uneasy. It was this house, he knew. While it held all the marking of being lived in, it was quite opposite of a home, and it certainly was not being used on a regular basis. There were no dishes in the sink or dish washer. There was no dirty laundry or even a hamper to put dirty laundry in. None of the books looked like they had been moved from there shelf in a long time according to the dust, and marks from where the vacuum had dragged along the carpet were still perfectly embedded across the floor.

In Ethan's bedroom Donatello's discomfort has grown to its pinnacle. The closet held nothing of importance, only clothes and a tie rack. Dresser drawers were also filed only with clothing and other essentials. In the drawer next to his bed there was a black leather journal, but when he flipped through it there was hardly anything but a few pointless dronings about work and cases, and mostly blank pages. Donny paused as he began to close the drawer.

"… It's a fake," he murmured.

Quickly he was on his knees, pulling the drawer off its hinges and feeling the bottom for a hidden panel. He found it promptly, and when he pulled the hidden compartment from its place and looked inside he was not surprised to see another black journal. Yet this journal was considerably thicker and more worn. He thought briefly of flipping through it and shuddered.

"I'll read you later," he said, slipping the journal into his duffle bag and replacing the panel and the drawer.

He searched the house completely, and in his paranoia he searched it once more, worrying that he had missed something. But beside the journal there was nothing else, and Donatello heaved a sigh of relief, flicked off all of Ethan's, and headed back to Theresa's car. The turtle had been worried about neighbors seeing the unfamiliar car in Ethan's driveway or parked on their street, so he had parked a block over, in an entirely different neighborhood. When he reached the vehicle he panicked for a moment when the car refused to start, but eventually the Chrysler roared to life.

Donatello sat in the driver's seat for a long time, not able to get rid of the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. Quickly he went over everything he'd done in his mind, knowing somehow that he was missing something and yet not feeling as though it was anything to do with Ethan's house or his neighbors. In fact, Donny hadn't gotten this feeling until he'd slipped into Theresa's car.

"….. Oh!"

Donatello was hit with the realization of exactly what he'd been missing, and quickly he was retrieving his phone from his belt and calling Raphael.

"Raph.... You need to search Ethan's _car_."

_**xxx**_

Raphael was glad, and not for the first time, that he had a genius for a brother. In their haste to cover all evidence, he had forgotten that Ethan's black Mercedes Benz would be in Theresa's parking lot. Snapping the phone shut Raphael walked to where Ethan's body now lay and lifted the heavy tarp the man was wrapped in. Michelangelo had left briefly only to return with the large piece of plastic. He and Raphael had then rolled the man onto it, effectively keeping the corpse from bleeding onto the floor any longer. Raphael quickly retrieved a key ring from Ethan's pocket that held a large car key with the Mercedes insignia on it and covered Ethan's body back up. He then looked to Justin.

"Do me a favor?" he grunted.

Justin, who had been sloshing copious amounts of accelerant over the blood stained area where Ethan had previously laid looked up.

"Yeah, what?" he asked, wiping sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Ethan's car is in the parking lot. I'm gonna go look in the car to see if there's anything in there and then I need you to drive it to the river."

Justin nodded and sat the accelerant down, wiping his hands on his pants.

Michelangelo, who had also been pouring the last of the gasoline over the chair Theresa had been tied to, looked at his brother.

"I didn't even think about that," he said thoughtfully.

Raphael nodded. "Yeah, me neither. You gonna be ok for a sec?"

Michelangelo waved them off and continued to upturn the gas on the floor around the chair, focusing on the areas where Theresa's blood had poured form her wrists.

Raphael and Justin exited the building, careful to make sure that no one was watching them. The door out of Ethan's second floor flat led them outdoors and down an old wooden stair case. Once they had made their way covertly to the parking lot behind Theresa's apartment complex, it didn't take long for the two of them to find Ethan's vehicle. He had parked as close to the pawn shop that the parking lot would allow, and his car was the only Benz in the lot. When they got to it they immediately popped the trunk and peered inside.

"… Jesus," Justin croaked, his eyes widening.

Inside of the trunk were several suitcases, and as they pulled them out and opened them they found that most were empty.

"…What would he need empty suitcases for?" Justin wondered.

Raphael stayed quiet for a moment before he replied, "Body parts."

Justin blanched. "You mean he was gonna cut her into little pieces? …Holy shit that's sick!"

Justin's voice had raised several octaves; and Raphael punched his arm lightly. "Shut up," she said sharply.

Justin swallowed and shook his head. Then after a moments pause he said, "I'm glad he's dead."

Raphael stood in silence, shoulder to shoulder with a man he'd once thought of as an enemy, and nodded in agreement. "Yeah… Me too."

After checking to make sure that there was nothing incriminating in the trunk they reloaded only the suit cases that held clothing (Ethan had obviously been living out of them since he'd been renting the flat across from Theresa's), and looked through the rest of the car. The only thing out of the ordinary was that there was no door handle on the passenger's side door.

"What a jackass," Justin murmured upon seeing it.

"He was thinking ahead," Raphael said when he saw the lack of door handle. "He knew she would try to escape and he didn't want her to be able to jump out of the car."

They stood in silence once more.

"Justin… Why are you helping us?" Raphael asked abruptly, tearing his eyes away from the door and looking at the man next to him.

Justin hesitated and then shrugged. "I just… I like her. I know that you two…" he trailed off and looked at Raphael. "I don't like it," he continued, voice unsteady but firm. "I think it weird that you two are…._together_. But I still like Theresa… And also… I should have told her about Ethan. I knew he was the one who took the gun, and I didn't tell her. I _owe_ her."

Raphael nodded, trying to ignore the way Justin had said _together_ as if he were slightly sickened by that knowledge.

"Fine. Here's what's happening. You're taking Ethan's car to the East River. Go to Dock 15 off of Maiden Lane. My brother Donny will be waiting for you. You'll get rid of this," he gestured at the black Mercedes, "and then you two will go to the law firm. I should already be there, but if I'm not wait for me. … Got it?"

Justin nodded. "Yeah, Maiden Lane, I know where that is. … What are you doing with the suit cases?"

"I'll take em' to the sewers. It'll be easy to hide em' down there," he replied.

Justin and Raphael searched the vehicle one last time, quailing there paranoia that they had somehow missed some piece of evidence. Justin bit his tongue to keep from telling Raphael that he wanted nothing more than to go home and forget this night had ever happened. To tell the turtle that he was tired, and disturbed, and angry, and confused, and that he wanted nothing more to do with problems that were clearly not his own.

But no matter how he felt, Justin could not say those words. He owed Theresa this, and as far as he was concerned- whether this truly involved him or not- it was now part of his problem.

So instead, relying on the instinct that told him Raphael knew what he was doing; Justin slid into the Mercedes and disappeared quickly down the road, headed toward the East River.

_**xxx**_

"_Cooooorbin_."

In the dark unconsciousness that surrounded him, Corbin Castillo could vaguely hear the sadistical way his name was being called. It was hard for him to grasp onto the solid voice when every part of his psyche was demanding that he stay in the darkness. That to pull himself out of his unconscious stupor was a mistake.

"_Cooooooorbin_. Corbin, my man. You gotta wake up,"

Through the darkness and fog of his mind Corbin felt a searing pain rip across his chest and his eyes flew open. Standing in front of him was Benito Escobar; holding a long knife that was tipped with bright red blood.

It took a moment for Corbin to gather his bearings, but when he did he realized four things in quick succession. One was that his arms and biceps were in considerable pain, and for some reason he could not move them.

The second thing he realized was that when he looked up, he saw the reason his arms were in such considerable pain. It was because they were tied at the wrists and he was hanging from a metal hook, which was attached to a dolly from the warehouses ceiling. His whole body was swaying, only the tips of his toes being able to touch the floor.

The third thing Corbin noticed was when he looked to his right and saw that Tommy was hanging in the exact same fashion beside him, and that unlike Corbin his mouth had been taped shut.

And the last thing he observed, draw in confusion to the bright red blood on the knife Benito held, was that when he looked down he saw that he'd been cut rather deeply from his right shoulder all the way down to his left hip.

Corbin groaned and shut his eyes tightly.

"Oh no you don't, pretty boy," Benito snapped, and a sharp pain that was Benito's fist colliding with Corbin's ribs made the blonde cry out and lift his head.

"Jesus!" Corbin exclaimed, his arms straining as he tried in vain to pull his wrists free from the impossibly tight knots.

"You know Corbin," Benito was saying, and his smile was thin and sadistic. "You killed Tre Jo."

It took Corbin a moment to comprehend the words Benito had said to him, the pain of what he knew was going to be a broken rib blinding him to everything. Through his pain, however, he was finally able to better take in his surroundings. The light in the warehouse was not very bright, but it was illuminating enough to show Corbin the many crates that were lining the walls. Since the Sough Siders were notorious drug and gun runners, Corbin didn't doubt what they were filled with. Corbin and Tommy were in a far corner of the warehouse, and surrounding them were Benito and the five new recruits. Laid on the floor, his face oddly blackened, was the lifeless body of Tre Jo.

Corbin let a slow smile curve his lips.

"At least I did something right," he said huskily.

When Benito's fist connected with Corbin's jaw he couldn't help but wince. He tasted blood, and before he could think about what he was doing he spit blindly in Benito's direction.

"You fucking piece of white trash," Benito snarled, and Corbin's world went black once more as he was hit across his face over and over again.

_**xxx**_

_**Authors Note:**_ Well, I have more typed, and I _was_ going to end with the fire, but this chapter was getting a bit too long. SO, here it is, and soon Chapter 23 will ready and available for your reading pleasure.

The reason it has taken me so long to update is because I've been watching The X-Files. … Seriously, that's it. My sister bought the first two seasons and I've become _addicted_ to Fox Mulder. I want to kidnap David Duchovny and have his children. So, blame The X-Files people. I'm buying the third season this weekend and you bet your ass I'll be glued to the TV any chance I get, lol.

Ok, the songs Mikey is listening to are Miss You by Blink 182, and Anywhere But Here by the Sick Puppies (awesome band. Listen to them!). In case you forgot, I dont own those songs. So sad.

A special thanks to _FairDrea_ for all her kind words and enthusiasm for this fic. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! :)

And of course to all who review or even to those who are just reading, I send a plethora of gratitude your way. You are all the best!!!

… I'm 24 now. Should I still want to have relations with turtles and other miscellaneous fictional characters? *shrugs* Oh well.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three, Fire Burn Water

_**Author's Note;**_ I unfortunately do not own the TMNT universe. But a girl can dream…

_**xxx**_

_**Chapter Twenty Three: Fire Burn Water**_

Michelangelo couldn't help but give a short laugh when he saw Raphael reappear in Ethan's flat. His oldest brother's face contorted as he stepped into the room, the pungent smell of gasoline filling his nostrils.

"Bring any marshmallows?" Mikey asked, his lighthearted voice sounding odd even to his own ears. "What took you so long?" he added.

Raphael gave him a scathing look and walked to the window, pulling the sheet to the side and breathing in fresh air. The smell of petrol was so strong it had begun to make him gag and feel slightly dizzy.

"Ethan had a bunch of empty suitcases in the trunk of his car," he explained through deep inhales of uncontaminated air. "I was throwing them down the manhole. I'll get em' when we leave."

Michelangelo's forged smile evaporated from his face at Raphael's words. It wasn't hard to put together just why Ethan might need empty suitcases.

"We need to get out of here," Raphael said after a moment, focusing on Michelangelo's hard eyes, which were glaring down at the lifeless, tarp covered body of Ethan Shempski, looking as though he wished he could kill the man all over again. "We need to go before anyone smells this, it reeks."

Mikey seemed to come despondently out of his dark reverie. The youngest turtle nodded and walked to the tarp covered corpse, hefting the lifeless man over his shoulder and walking towards the door. Raphael went to follow his brother when all at once he suddenly halted.

_Theresa_.

It was as if some ethereal force was abruptly screaming at Raphael's entire being to go to Theresa. The strength in which he suddenly wanted to see her was enough to make his arms tense and cover with goose flesh. He was all at once short of breath and lightheaded- although the second could well have been because of the gasoline covered room.

"Mike," he said, making his voice as normal as possible. "Hold on a second."

Michelangelo raised a high eye ridge at his oldest brother, and Raphael motioned hastily for him to wait as he climbed out of the widow. The pull he felt to see Theresa was almost magnetic, and he could not deny it. He carefully avoided the large glass shards that jutted out of the pane, and fluidly he sprung across the gap that separated the second story flat and Theresa's own bedroom window. Raphael landed stealthily on the fire escape, his heart racing with worry and fear. It was as if his whole body was suddenly prickling with a heavy sheen of panic.

Raphael felt chilled to the very bone, as though deaths hands held his heart in its boney fingers. Thoughts of Theresa crowded his mind, and he wondered if maybe these feelings meant something ominous. Raphael wasn't one to believe in omens, and he certainly didn't hold much credibility to "bad feelings", but his hands trembled. Theresa hadn't had much blood on her when he'd watched Mickey pass her into Leonardo's arms. Only the blood seeping though Michelangelo's headband that had been wrapped tightly around her wrist and the darkening bruise on her forehead were the indicators of any kind of physical injury.

But still… maybe it was worse than he'd thought. And what if it was? What if…

Raphael shook the thought away, moving forward in haste, his steps lithe and rapid. Once inside of the apartment he wasted no time and hurried to the living room, skidding to a halt when he saw Leonardo and Amy huddled around an unmoving figure on the couch.

"Is she… is she ok?" he asked, startled into stillness at the sight of her pale face against the darkness of the room. It had never occurred to him that her injuries may be life threatening. Mikey had saved her… hadn't he? And yet the paleness of her face reminded him of the paleness of Ethan's corpse, flat and sheet white.

Both Amy and Leo jerked their heads towards Raphael. There was a momentary pause as they all looked in worry at Theresa before Amy said, "She's going to be fine. She looks worse than she actually is."

Raphael nodded numbly, air suddenly rushing to his lungs, and without second thought he strode to her side, kneeling and placing a shaking hand over her cheek. Up closer he could see her light breathing and sighed in relief, but he winced at the display of the bruise on her forehead, darker now than it had been before, testimony to the callous way Ethan had treated her.

'_Glad he's dead,'_ a voice in his head seemed to scream. _'So glad that fucking bastard is dead.' _

There was still a thick layer of duct tape that looked embedded in her hair, by the nape of her neck, and when Amy notice Raphael looking at it she said, "We're going to have to cut her hair to get it out… trust me."

Raphael did not reply, instead he knelt down beside Theresa, touching her cheek carefully, as though he were afraid she might break.

"Theresa," he whispered, his voice sounding as though he had swallowed a handful of nails. "Theresa?"

Amy shifted uneasily behind him. "…Raph, she needs to rest."

"Theresa, wake up," Raphael said again, tapping her cheek lightly and ignoring Amy's words.

Theresa stirred slightly, and Raphael leaned closer to her, his lip brushing lightly over her closed eye lids.

"Theresa," he murmured, not caring that his voice was rapidly becoming strained. "Theresa, _please_ wake up for a second."

Raphael watched as Theresa's brows knit momentarily before they slowly fluttered open, unseeing at first and then becoming focused.

"Raph?" she asked groggily, and Raphael grinned and let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Hey," he replied gently, stroking his thumb lightly over her cheek bone. "You scared the hell outta me tonight."

Theresa's eyes closed momentarily, and then they opened fully as she seemed to completely grasp her surroundings. She looked up at Raphael and frowned. "Raph, he shot our dog." Her voice was laced with emotion and her eyes quickly filled with tears. "He shot Thor."

Raphael shook his head. "Shhh. No, it's okay. I found Thor. He should be fine. Just a shoulder would and maybe shock. We're all gonna go down ta the lair- and I'll bring Thor too. You'll see, he's okay."

Theresa relaxed visibly. "Really?" she asked, her eyelids closing and her breathing becoming shallow.

Raphael took a deep breath through his nostrils, suddenly aware that he was on the verge of crying.

"Really," he whispered back, clenching his jaw hard.

Theresa's eyes opened again. "You… you left me," she said, her eyes filling with tears once more.

Raphael stiffened as his eyes began to swim. "I know," he replied, his voice cracking, full of shame. And then, "I'm sorry, Theresa. I'm _sorry_."

He could feel tears spill from his eyes, and while in the back of his mind he was aware that Leonardo and Amy were witnesses to his and Theresa's exchange, he could not bring himself to make the tears stop.

"I love you so much," he continued. "I love you so much and I'm _so_ sorry."

Theresa gave a broken sob and pulled him to her, letting him bury his face in the crook of her arm. Tears kept spilling from his eyes but he held his cries in, refusing to sob on her shoulder like some small child might. Instead Raphael breathed her in, holding on to the knowledge that she was alive and in his arms. "I'm sorry," he kept murmuring over and over again, and Theresa would say nothing, only hold onto him tighter with her uninjured arm, careful not to jar her IV.

"Are we still over?" Theresa finally asked, her voice uneven through her emotions. "Do you still think we aren't supposed to be together…that we couldn't make it work?"

Raphael could feel her trembling. He lifted his head from her shoulder and looked at her.

"I'm sorry for that," he said hoarsely, running a palm over his face to covertly get rid of the tears. "I'm sorry for being so stupid…" he paused, feeling grief and misery well up inside of him and fighting it back. "I've gotta take care of some things… you need to rest."

Theresa sighed. "You think you can get away that easy?" she asked sadly, frowning. Her eyes were bright with the swimming of tears, but she looked tired and worn, struggling to keep here eyelids open, fighting off the sedative. "You think you can leave and not answer? … Please Raph… please just _tell_ me. I _need_ to know."

Raphael felt the tears again and cursed them, burying his face in her neck and murmuring in her ear, "We're not over. We're not over, we can make this work. I love you and _we can make this work_."

Theresa sighed in what sounded like relief. "We need to have a big talk when I wake up," she mumbled, and Raphael watched as her eyes closed heavily, her breathing even as sleep overtook her.

There was a long moment of silence before Amy said gently, "I'm surprised she lasted that long… I gave her a pretty strong sedative."

Raphael nodded in acknowledgement and stood, avoiding both his brothers and Amy's eyes.

"Amy," he mumbled gruffly, looking down at the carpet. "You got a lighter?"

Amy nodded and fished one out of her purse, handing it to Raphael, saying softly, "Good thing I smoke, huh?"

Raphael did not answer, only nodded self-consciously.

Leonardo shifted uneasily. "Hey… No one blames you Raph-"

"_Don't_," Raphael growled, his eyes suddenly hard as flint.

There was a moment of terse silence before he said, "I need you to pack Theresa a bag and move to her bedroom. When I give the signal, we're leaving."

Before they could answer he left, striding past the two quickly and without a backwards glance. He took a moment to center himself in Theresa's bedroom with multiple deep breaths. His thoughts and feelings were somewhat chaotic, ranging from the guilt he felt for leaving Theresa, the happiness and relief he felt in finding her, and the fear and panic that built inside of him every time he considered the possibilities of what might happen if they did not get rid of _all_ the evidence tying Theresa with Ethan's death.

Theses thoughts plagued Raphael, and he unsympathetically smothered them, concentrating instead on what he needed to do to make the latter never happen.

After tonight, there would be no more worries of Ethan Shempski ruining _anyone's_ life.

_**xxx**_

Justin stood stiffly next to the Mercedes, wondering just how long he could stand there and not become suspicious. Although the drive to the East Dock had been a fairly smooth one (minus the normal traffic for a Saturday night), he was still nervous about the time it had taken him to cross town. He had parked Ethan's car just where Raphael had told him, and now Justin was waiting impatiently for _another_ turtle to come and retrieve him, hoping the terrapin named Donatello hadn't panicked and abandoned him with the smoking gun- all the while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

The October air was cool, made cooler by the East River that was just a stones throw away. Justin could see dock 15, vacant and unused, and the sound of water lightly lapping on the shore of the bank was able to reach his ears. Justin wished, not for the first time, that he had a jacket. The man ran a nervous hand through his curls, peering around him, wanting with every fiber in his body to leave this place and just go home. The sensation of being watched was almost overwhelming, and it was making him paranoid. Frenzied thoughts were flying through his mind as he stood under a broken street lamp, wondering if this was a set up, wondering if Raphael had betrayed him, wondering he'd been followed, and all the while trying with out avail to block out the image of a three pronged blade sinking into Ethan's throat as easily as if it were butter.

Justin had never realized death could be so quick, so easy.

"Hey… Justin."

Justin jumped and jerked his head up, seeing a shadowed figure on the sidewalk where just a moment before there had been nothing whatsoever. It was directly across the street from the blonde haired attorney, and it cleared its throat uncertainly.

Justin swallowed noisily and said, "Uh… Yeah. …_Donny_?" The name was uncertain on the tip of his tongue, and Justin shifted awkwardly.

Across the street the figure moved forward, and in the dim moonlight Justin could see that what was coming towards him was another turtle, this one an olive shade of green and wearing a purple bandanna.

"Hey," Donny said, lifting his hand in a short three fingered wave.

There was a terse moment of silence between the two of them before Justin finally asked, "How long have you been there?"

Donatello grinned. "Since you pulled up… I just wanted to make sure you weren't being followed."

Justin scowled. "More like you wanted to make sure I hadn't called the police."

Donny shrugged. "That too," he conceded indifferently.

Justin sighed. As a lawyer he was used to not being trusted, and this behavior was nothing new. But after his cooperation the mistrust he was getting from all of the terrapin brothers was frustrating.

"Nothing personal," Donatello added, as if he'd read Justin's mind. "I just want to make sure we're _all_ covered."

Justin nodded begrudgingly, but still understood the need for such overly cautious behavior. There was silence between the two, and in that silence (awkward and pregnated as it was) Justin took a moment to assess the new turtle. The young attorney noticed immediately that this brother _sounded_ different from the rest. The other three turtles all had distinct voices, commanding and authoritative- all ranging in baritones that conveyed dominance and pure alpha. And while Justin had no doubt that this brother was also an alpha, his voice was softer. It was more laid back and less demanding. It was the voice of a thinker. It was the voice of an individual who was working all thoughts, all possible avenues out in his mind. The difference between the rest of turtles, in voice alone, was marked.

"Where's Theresa's car?" Justin finally asked.

Donatello pointed down the road. "About a quarter of a block from here," he replied. The turtle then looked thoughtfully at the Mercedes.

"So… I know Raph told you to park it here, but we're taking the car somewhere else," Donny said.

Justin's brows rose. "Oh?" he asked, already feeling as though he knew where this was going.

"Yeah. Leaving the car here wouldn't really be a logical solution. For one, yours and Theresa's fingerprints are all over it."

Justin only nodded and replied, "Yeah, I sort of figured that out at this point."

Donatello gave the man across from him a half grin. "You know where I'm getting with this, don't you?" he said, his voice slightly amused.

Justin ran a palm over his strained face. "I didn't think I drove to a dock for a late night swim."

Donatello closed the gap between them and took the keys from Justin's hand, opening the driver's side door and sliding into it.

"No," he replied with a large smile. "But I did."

_**xxx**_

Corbin Castillo had wished a lot of things in his life. He'd wished, eleven years ago, that his Mother hadn't gotten the big C. The lung cancer from smoking two packs a day had finally caught up to her back then, when he'd only been seventeen, and he remembered with clarity wishing that anyone on the planet would take her place on that hospital gurney.

Corbin could remember as well, only five years ago, wishing he hadn't cheated on Vanessa Gavin. Fucking around on her had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life, although he hadn't realized it all those years ago. She'd been just another skirt to chase back then, just another girl from Queens he could use when he wanted and let go of when things got too serious. But she had walked in on him _flagrante delicto _on his living room couch with some woman whose name he couldn't even remember (Shawna? Rena?). And Vanessa had only stared in shock at him for a moment before tuning heel and walking out of his life forever. He didn't call her after that. Even when he realized that he'd fallen in love with her, he didn't call.

He wished he'd called.

There were other things. He wished he had gone to art school or joined the Army like all his teachers in high school had told him to. He wished he'd never met a guy named Torrence Small- who had introduced him to every drug under the sun by the time he'd turned nineteen. Corbin wished he had been smart enough to stay off drugs, instead of having to do a ten month intensive rehabilitation program that had been court ordered because he'd robbed five different convenience stores at gun point to get the money for his next fix.

But right now, at this very moment, Corbin wished more than anything in the world that he had never met Thomas Colden.

Right now, Corbin _hated_ Thomas Colden.

"I swear, it was a _turtle_," Tommy was shouting, his voice breaking into screams every time Benito would grimace and yank on his tightly bound arms. Tommy's hands were bound in Navy knots at the wrists with tightly wound rope, and had pulled over his head- just as Corbin's were. Both of the men were hanging from dollies that were attached to ceiling, and the duct tape had been removed from Tommy's mouth. Each time Tommy would mention the word _turtle,_ Benito would yank hard on Tommy's arm so that it pulled farther and farther out of its socket.

"He killed your brother! He killed Parker, I swear!"

Tommy screamed again, and Corbin closed his swollen eyes and let his chin rest heavily on his chest. He could feel himself slipping. For a long while Benito had beaten every inch of Corbin's body he could find. And when he'd run out of breath, Benito had told one of his lackeys to take over. Corbin had been cut several more times as well. In addition the long cut from his right shoulder to his left hip, he'd also had the knife run deeply into the right and left side of his body. Blood pooled freely on the ground below him. Every inch of his body screamed in pain, from his head to his groin to his calves. His breath would hitch. His legs would tremor. His heart would skip.

He was dying.

Death had never frightened him, not when it lurked so close beside him everyday on the street. And the prospect of dying in a South Side warehouse didn't faze him much. But Corbin did wish that he knew whether or not Theresa was okay before he sunk into the unknown abyss. That was what was important, after all. That Theresa was okay. Because there was no way Benito was going to believe Tommy's rantings about big green turtles with names like _Michelangelo_.

Corbin almost had to laugh. All that worry, all that caution, for _nothing_. No one would believe a thing Tommy had to say about a _turtle_ killing Benito's half brother, the idea alone was absolutely ludicrous, something that could have possibly been thought up during an acid induced fantasy. They all should have knocked Tommy out and left him in the middle of nowhere weeks ago, when he'd first let it be known that he wanted to leave the lair.

'_To know then what you know now… isn't that the saying?'_ Corbin thought dimly, his breathing shallow.

For almost an hour now Tommy had been telling Benito about turtles and Parker McCoy, and for almost an hour Benito had done nothing but beat and batter every inch of Tommy's body for what he saw as _lies_.

"They live in the sewers, I swear!" Tommy would scream. And Benito would clench his jaw in fury and yell, "You fucking idiot! Tell me the truth, _where have you been_?" As he was screaming he would ram his fist into every piece of flesh on Tommy's body that he could. Benito was not only an ex- cop, but also was an armature boxer. His fist colliding into any part of Corbin and Tommy's body felt like the equivalent of being hit by a Mac Truck.

'_It's good enough for him,'_ Corbin thought uncaringly, slipping even deeper into death's clutches. If Corbin was going to die, than the least he could hope for at this point was that Tommy would get beaten to death as well. Although, Tommy didn't have any knife wounds…

Benito was gasping large quantities of air now, out of breath almost completely. "Tommy," he panted, "You really are the most worthless piece of shit in existence." 

There was a lengthy pause as Benito caught his breath; his heaving interrupted only by Tommy's anguished cries of pain.

Finally Benito ran an irritated hand through his thick black hair, cropped so short that his ears looked stranded on the sides of his face, and said, "Tommy, did your _sister_ know where you were?"

The question caused Corbin, who had been willing his body to just go on and stop functioning, to yank himself firmly out of deaths cold grasp. He lifted his head and weakly looked over at Tommy through his one good eye- the other completely swollen shut.

Tommy took a ragged breath and began to speak.

"Benito…"

_**xxx**_

"Ready?" Raphael asked calmly, stepping lithely into the second story flat- making a face as the wave of petrol filled his nostrils.

Michelangelo nodded grimly, still standing in the exact same location as he'd been when Raphael had left the flat to see Theresa. Ethan's body was still flung over his shoulder like a rag doll, and the turtle seemed indifferent to the added weight of the corpse. Raphael frowned deeply and quickly gathered all other evidence- which consisted of the long wicked looking knife Ethan had been ready to use on Theresa, all personal effects from the bathroom (like the toothpaste and a razor), and both the gas can and the accelerant Justin had purchased earlier. Raphael sighed in relief when he heard a swishing sound that was a small amount of fluid left in the accelerant can.

"Go to the sewer. Get rid of that… _thing_," he tilted his head at the tarp covered body of Ethan to indicate what he was talking about before he continued. "I'll tell Amy, Leo and Theresa to follow and then I'll set this place on fire."

Michelangelo nodded once more and turned to leave, but a firm grasp on his wrist stopped him. Mikey's eye ridges raised as he looked questioningly at Raphael.

"Come back, Mike. After you dump Ethan… come back."

Raphael's voice held no plea, only a firm command, and Michelangelo felt torn for a moment between arguing with his brother and giving in. The latter won, and Michelangelo's eyes softened. As much as he would have liked to continue his current lifestyle- drinking and smoking his life and all its harsh memories away, he could not shake the words Theresa had said to him.

"_Mikey…You've been gone so long." _

He'd hurt her. Michelangelo realized that with his absence, with his selfish need to detach himself from his life and his problems, he had hurt Theresa. He had probably hurt the rest as well, had hurt his brothers and his father and April and Casey, but their pain seemed insignificant to hurting Theresa. She was the sacrificial lamb, the victim. You weren't supposed to hurt the victim; you were supposed to protect the victim. Which was why Mikey had relished in killing, nay, murdering Ethan. It was the same reason he felt no guilt of remorse in killing Parker McCoy. Jade had been a victim too.

Michelangelo nodded slowly in agreement. "I'll come back," he said.

Raphael seemed to believe him, because he let go of his brother's arm and stepped back. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking at his baby brother with a new light, as though he'd never seen him; _truly_ seen him, until now.

"… I," he stopped, looking around the room as if he could find what he was going to say in the corners of the gasoline filled apartment. "I miss you, Mike. We all miss you."

It was a 'miss you' that covered two different levels. He missed his brother physically, missed having him around and seeing him almost everyday. But also, he missed Michelangelo's old self, the one that had died with Jade. The one that seemed lost to the extent that it would probably never fully emerge again. The old Michelangelo that now only showed itself in glimpses, and that was only in the presence of…

"Theresa," Raphael said quietly, realization dawning on him. "You love her."

Michelangelo looked somewhat surprised. "Love her?" he echoed, eyes a bit wide- showing a lot of white.

Raphael only looked at his brother, worried now that what he had said was true on Theresa's part as well. Perhaps she was in love with Michelangelo? His shoulders slumped at the thought.

Mikey shook his head vehemently. "No," he said firmly. "No… I mean, yeah, I do but… but… it's different," he shifted his feet uncomfortably before continuing, swinging his arms in an awkward gesture.

"It's not the way you think," he said. "I don't… I don't want her the way you do… I don't need her beside me like you do. I just… I love her because of who she is and how she makes me feel… not to be with or… or anything like that. She's just… she's my _friend_."

He said the last in a beseeching sort of tone, as if he were trying to make Raphael see that he would not be the one to snatch Theresa away. And with that thought he added, "I'm not _Donatello_," he said the name as if it were acid on his tongue, "I would never…. I would _never_ do anything with Theresa. It's not like that."

Raphael gave a hollow sort of laugh. "Mike… I get it," he said, still not sure but willing to drop the topic. "Go get rid of that thing."

Michelangelo looked at Raphael a bit longer, wondering if his older brother really believed him, before he turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Raphael.

Minutes passed by silently before Raphael finally moved his feet from the spot they seemed to have rooted themselves to.

"Get a grip," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head clear of all thoughts. He did one last walk through of Ethan's apartment, making sure he had gathered absolutely everything that could be considered a personal effect. Once he was sure that all was thoroughly combed over he took all of the personal possessions he'd found and dumped them in the bathroom sink, and then poured the last of the accelerant over them.

"The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire," he mumbled quietly, thinking in a detached sort of humor of the Bloodhound Gang's song _Fire Burn Water_. 

Raphael took the now empty can of accelerant and the empty gas can and went to the window. He yanked the sheet they had found down from the pane and tossed it to a corner of the room. Out on the street there was only a quiet hum of traffic, and the apartment complex across from the pawn shop- Theresa's apartment complex- only had the sparse glow of a television set emitting from the occasional window.

"Jesus I hope this works," Raphael said to himself nervously, and gave a sharp whistle. From Theresa's window Leonardo stuck his head out.

"We saw Mikey leave," he said, and Amy's head appeared next to Leo's, bobbing up and down as she nodded. Neither mentioned that he was carrying a bundle that looked oddly like a body over his shoulder.

"Leo," Raphael called in a whisper, "I need you to help me get the cameras Donny put up dismantled."

Leonardo nodded and without question or hesitation swung himself onto the fire escape, reaching out and pulling the closest camera- base and all- from its screwed in place on the brick wall. Raphael leapt out of the window and began yanking down the cameras in the same hurried fashion. In all there were twelve cameras, six on the outside surrounding Theresa's apartment, and five inside of Theresa's apartment. The twelfth was a very small pea-sized camera that was above Theresa's front door (positioned there so that when Donny was watching the live feed from his lab he could see anyone that came to Theresa's door).

When all of the cameras (both from the outside and inside) were taken down, Raphael took a duffle bag from Theresa's closet and put them, along with the empty accelerant can, in it. Then Leo gently scooped an unconscious Theresa into his arms (the IV had to be taken out). Raphael carried the camera filled duffle bag, Amy's bag of medical supplies, the book bag that Amy had packed for Theresa, and the bulky red plastic gas can out of the window and down the fire escape ladder. Amy followed close behind.

The night was fairly quiet. People milled sparsely on the streets beyond, but most were in Tribeca or the lower east side at this time of night- the nightlife wasn't as lively in Theresa's part of town- near the courthouse and city hall. The early October air held the sharp scents of fall, dying leaves that still clung to large elms and crisp air that was heady mixture of both warm and cool.

Raphael breathed in a deep, cleansing breath and quickly saw the others down the manhole- depositing the medical bag and Theresa's book bag into Amy's awaiting hands. The other duffel bag was placed on a ledge to the side of the sewer for him to retrieve on his way back to the lair, along with the suitcases from Ethan's car. Amy gave him what might have been a reassuring smile, and Leo only nodded grimly. Then the three of them, Theresa still completely unconscious in Leonardo's arms, disappeared in the direction of the lair.

Raphael closed the manhole and stood nervous in the sparse alleys lamp light.

He looked up at Ethan Shempski's apartment.

He looked down at the lighter in his hand.

"_We don't need no water let the Mother Fucker burn…_"

_**xxx**_

"I swear there are turtles, Benito. I _swear_," Tommy said in reply, spitting up blood as he said it. Benito gave an angry cry and let his fist fall hard on Tommy's shoulder. Tommy cried out in pain.

"_Your sister_!" Benito practically screamed, veins in his neck strained and bulging. "_Did your sister help you_?"

There was a long minute of silence as Benito waited for Tommy to work through the pain he was feeling.

"She… she told me to hide," Tommy finally croaked. "She helped me."

"_**LIAR**_!"

All in the room, including the young South Side recruits in the corner, jumped at Corbin's sudden shout of fury. Death was no longer knocking quite as loud on his door as a wave of anger induced adrenaline surged through him.

"How dare you!" Corbin growled, his voice straining with the amount of fervor he put into it. "How _dare_ you try to sell her out! She had _nothing_ to do with this you piece of shit, so keep your lies to yourself!"

Benito's brows were raised high. "I though you'd died on us, partner," he said, his tone somewhere between disappointed and shocked. In the corner one of the five recruits (who were all still positioned around the dead body of Tre Jo) mumbled something that sounded a lot like _too bad_. Corbin ignored them.

"He's a liar Benito," Corbin assured, his words slurred as a wave of nausea rushed over him. "Theresa doesn't have shit to do with him no more."

Corbin felt himself begin to drift, his head lolling as he struggled to stay awake- to stay alive. Next to him, Tommy began to cry.

"She helped me Benito. She did. Corbin is lying to you, he's-"

"You **fuck**!" Corbin growled, jerking from his near comatose. "You'd sell her out? She's your _sister_!"

Anger kept the blonde going, and suddenly things in the warehouse became a bit sharper, as if just an ounce of life was brought back into him. He couldn't die yet, a voice militantly shouted at him. He had to make sure Theresa was going to be ok. _He couldn't die yet_. Not surprisingly, the subconscious voice screaming at him to live sounded uncannily like Leonardo.

"You're already dead," Corbin said throatily, tuning his head to look in disgust at his once best friend. "Don't you know that? He's going to kill you… no matter what. Why…" he struggled to talk, his sharp intake of breath a death rattle. "Why the _fuck_ would you try to bring down your sister? She's got _nothing_ to do with this. And you buying a few extra minutes of life by lying and saying she helped you is pathetic. …You're… you're shit." Corbin struggled on the last part, blood practically gagging him as it began to fill his lungs. His head was throbbing and his vision was becoming blurred. The small amount of life that had temporarily breathed into him fled just as quickly as it had come, taking with it more of his energy, making him feel weaker than ever.

"You're shit," he repeated. He could feel his legs shaking. Every intake of air into his lungs was a battle that he was losing.

As if through a tunnel Corbin could hear Tommy say, "She helped me Benito. She hid me with the turtles."

Benito let an angry growl escape from his lips. A long string of rapid Spanish emitted from his throat as he began to pace back and forth between the two hanging young men. His face had turned almost instantly red with fury at the mention of the word '_turtle'_.

"What kind of acid are you tripping?" Benito yelled, spitting in his rage. "Are you fucking _stupid_?"

As Benito continued to curse and shout, Corbin's previous panic began to subside (though it was miniscule). _'He doesn't believe,'_ Corbin found himself thinking. _'He thinks Tommy is lying. … __**Please**__ think Tommy is lying.'_

His thoughts were pleading and muddled, but a small, almost incoherent part of him had started to believe. Had stared to hope that in his anger at Tommy, Benito would forget about Theresa.

Unfortunately, his hope was in vain.

"Benito," a voice called tentatively, and Corbin felt his heart stop.

The voice, scratchy yet young, came from a man in his mid twenties that had been sitting on an upturned milk crate in a dark corner of the warehouse, close to Tre Jo's unmoving and lifeless body. His hair was a light red, and an array of freckles stood out on his pale face. Corbin, still living off only his fear and determination, recognized that this man had been one of the new recruits to surround him outside of the warehouse.

"Benito," the man said again, and when he stood Corbin saw that while he was somewhat short, he was also stalky, and that he was built like a boxer.

"What Charlie?" Benito asked sharply, glaring at the red head.

Charlie hesitated, shifting nervously on his feet before he said, "A few weeks ago Emmanuel Vasquez was going on about seeing a monster… something about a green frog. I didn't want to say anything but… but Corbin was supposed to have been there. … And Theresa."

Corbin could feel his world come to a screeching stop. Just like that, everything came unraveled, everything fell apart.

In those words, Corbin's fate was sealed.

_**Flashback… **_

_Theresa turned to leave, and Raphael went to follow, but a hand on his upper bicep stopped him._

"_Wait a minute bro'." Emanuel said, gripping tightly to Raphael's forearm and twisting him around. "You gotta answer a couple questions. We aint letting you follow Ressa around without knowin' who you is. You don't look like you can protect her none. Maybe I should send Corbin wit ya'll, till all this blows over. Aint nothin' for me to have a guy killed Reese." _

_Manny still kept a tight hold of Raphael, and the turtle hid his face down lower in his coat and glowered. _

_Theresa looked nervously between the two before saying, "He's capable Manny. And Corbin would try to feel me up every chance he got."_

_Corbin laughed, "Who wouldn't. You fuckin' hot Theresa. My Mom would feel you up."_

_Theresa made a face. "Nice." She said, her voice derisive. _

_Corbin smirked and turned to look at Raphael. "He don't look so tuff Reese. Your brotha'd be pissed if he knew you wasn't goin' to him an me for help. This dude all hunch backed and shit…" _

_Corbin took another step closer, his eyes narrowed and he tried to look under Raphael's ball cap. _

"_Wait a minute… I know you!" He exclaimed, stopping suddenly in his tracks and looking worriedly to Theresa. _

"_Resa, you hangin' out with the Nightwatcher!"_

_Theresa made a face, her heart rate easing back down. "Oh please. Raph- I mean Rick, is so far away from being the Nightwatcher he's on a different planet." _

_Raphael snorted loudly, not being able to hold back his exasperation at his being the Nightwatcher being completely shrugged off by Theresa. Why would that be so unbelievable? _

_It had been a mistake to do anything though, because now everyone was looking at him._

_Theresa's eyes were wide. "You were the Nightwatcher Raph?" _

_Corbin made a face at her, "Thought his name was Rick. You such a bad liar Reese, how you a lawyer?" _

_Theresa rolled her eyes and ignored him. "Listen, I didn't know he was the Nightwatcher, I wouldn't have brought him if I did." She said, looking at Emanuel seriously._

_Manny, his grip still tight on Raphael, shook his head. "You know how big a pain in the ass this guy was? You know how many deals got busted cause this guy stuck his nose in our business? You free to go Theresa, but this guy stays." _

_Before Theresa could respond, Raphael began to laugh. Everyone looked at him, Theresa's eyes wide, Corbin's a bit nervous, and everyone else disbelieving and hostile. _

"_Do you really think," Raphael said, raising his head to meet Manny's stare. "That you could make me stay here with you?" _

_Emanuel immediately let go of Raphael and jumped backwards onto the curb, stumbling in his haste. "Holy shit, you a monster!" He exclaimed. _

"_Raph!" Theresa snarled, her eyes wide and angry._

"_Oh calm down," Raphael said, tuning to her and taking his hands out of his pockets. "My pants were gettin' ready to fall down anyway. I told you these were to big Theresa." _

_Theresa shook her head. "What are you doing?" She hissed in alarm, her voice rising to a higher octave._

_Raphael shrugged, pulling at his pants and taking off the ball cap. "Everyone on the street has heard enough about the green monsters that I really don't care if they see me. Who's gonna believe em'?" He said, throwing a threatening look at Emanuel. _

_Manny threw up his hands, "No problems from me bro'. Just leave me alone!" _

_Raphael smirked and turned to Theresa. "Let's go."_

_**End Flashback…**_

Corbin swallowed the blood that had pooled in his mouth. Emanuel had exposed them. His lighthearted yet lethal friend had just sent them all down shit creek. Not intentionally or with malice, but he'd exposed them just the same. Because, Corbin reflected, Emanuel Vasquez liked to talk, and Corbin could very well see his friend telling anyone who would listen that about his encounter with a real live monster. And in Corbin's neck of the woods news traveled fast, and it wasn't hard to imagine others talking about how Manny had lost his mind and was now seeing big green alligator men.

In front of Corbin Benito had stopped pacing. His chest heaved, and when the massive ex-cop looked at Corbin, Corbin tried not to look like a deer caught in headlight.

He failed miserably.

"That's crazy," Benito said in a soft, indecisive voice, looking unsure at Corbin's swollen face.

Charlie shrugged. "I just thought you should know."

_**xxx**_

In the sewer, Leonardo reached over and brought Amy's hand to his eyes.

Her Invader Zim wristwatch showed how late it was getting.

"…_Where's Corbin_?"

_**xxx**_

Justin watched the black Mercedes fly through the air like an awkward bird, careening off the dock as if it were about to take flight. It almost seemed to hover, Justin reflected, just moments before it dove nose first into the icy East River. The car floated for a few minutes, water gurgling around it as it began to fill. And then it was gone, like a ship that's been torpedoed or a sail boat that's taken on water. 

"Or a car that's been driven into the East River," Justin mumbled, inching to the side of the shore and peering out to where the car had once floated, ripples of water and air pockets still marking the place where it had been. In his hands he held Donatello's cell phone and leather belt.

"Come on Donny… where are you …?"

Underwater Donatello took the last gulp of air that he could before the Mercedes filled entirely with water. He waited until the car settled, eyes closed, concentrating exclusively on the task at hand. Seconds turned into a minute. One minute turned into two. His eyes opened slowly.

'_You need to go now,'_ he thought to himself. And yet…

And yet he hesitated.

Jade was gone. Jade was gone and she was never coming back.

'_She's never coming back.'_

He closed his eyes. Another minute went by. The water was cold. His lungs were still full of sweet oxygen; he could stay under for a very long time. He could wedge his feet under the seat to keep himself from floating to the top once he did run out of air. Was that what he wanted? Was that the way he wanted to die?

'_Is this what I want?' _

He opened his eyes. It was incredibly dark. The Mercedes had settled on the floor of the River, dirt and sand rising up around it. An occasional fish flitted to the vehicle, inspecting the massive imposer before skittishly gliding away. The water got murkier, the cold temperature biting harshly into Donatello's skin. He could do this. He could stay here and die.

And then the face of his brothers flitted into his mind.

'_Not yet.' _

Donatello acted quickly, carefully removing himself from the water logged car through the open driver's side window. He had waited long enough that there was no problem swimming to the surface, the car had settled and there was no longer a current to pull him to the bottom of the river. He could have stayed under so much longer, contemplating his own suicide, and still he'd have had enough air in his lungs to bring him to surface. The benefit of being a turtle.

But this had been the first time he'd ever thought of death seriously.

He broke the surface, breathing through his nose calmly and immediately starting to paddle to the dock.

On the shore, Justin sighed in relief.

"Come on man," he hissed. "We need to get outta here!"

Less than ten minutes later the two were in Theresa's car, Justin in the driver's seat while Donny cranked up the heat.

"I'm c-c-cold," he stuttered, and Justin chuckled. "Yeah? Aren't you cold blooded?"

Donny, whose mind was still in dark places, held his hands in front of the vent. "Yeah. But n-n-not that c-c-cold."

There was silence as Justin drove, Donatello periodically rubbing his thighs to life and Justin loosening his tie and running nervous hands through his hair.

What if someone had seen the Mercedes, the young attorney thought. What if someone had taken down Theresa's plates? All the scenarios that could evolve badly went through Justin's mind. This could mean the end of his career, the end of his _life_. He tried to feel regret, yet the memory of Theresa, feeble and weak in the turtle named Leonardo's arms prevented any kind of sympathy. He couldn't regret. Not after what Ethan had done.

The silence was finally broken by the sharp ring of Donny's phone. Justin fished the device from his jacket pocket and handed it to the turtle in the passenger's seat.

"It's Leo," Donatello said, no longer shaking from the chill of the East River, and he flipped his phone open.

Before he could even speak a greeting Leo was saying sharply in his ear, _"I need you to go Third and St. Clair and get Corbin. __**Now**__."_

_**xxx**_

The flame that emitted from the hot pink lighter that Amy had thrown to him danced in front of Raphael's eyes. This flame, sparked to life by flint and accelerant, would be what burned all evidence of a monster named Ethan Shempski to the ground. The Bloodhound Gangs song _Fire Burn Water_ still ran ridiculously through Raphael's mind, the lyrics making him wonder what kind of acid had been dropped through the writing process. But the chorus, now _that_ was fitting. And try as he might, it would not leave his mind.

_The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire, We don't need no water let the motherfucker burn, Burn motherfucker, burn.__  
_

He stood in the doorway of Ethan Shempski's second story flat, humming that chorus over and over again. Carefully, he bent and touched the lighters contained flame to the apartments unfinished wood floor. The fire spread quickly, and Raphael jumped back, his fingers already singed. He stood cautiously at the door, watching for a moment as scorching blue flames licked up the walls.

"Jesus," he mumbled, awe stricken by the speed and intensity in which the flame swelled.

And then he was gone, sprinting to the manhole and clambering down its ladder before anyone could spot him.

And the apartment burned.

_**xxx**_

Corbin could feel the cold blade at his cheek, could feel its razor sharpness. And yet, even with the knowledge that his face was about to get split open, he could not bring himself to care.

"_Tell me_ Corbin. Tell me what the _fuck_ Tommy is talking about."

Benito's voice was sharp and full of agitated anger.

"Tommy?" Corbin said, his voice slurring, "...He's got all kinds of friends. You should see the lions and tigers he hangs out with. … And bears."

Corbin's voice was faint, but still strong enough to have a mocking tone in it.

The blade cut only slightly into his cheek, a small ribbon of blood running down the length of it.

"You tell me now Corbin, or else your pretty face is gonna be a memory."

Corbin breathed deeply. "Untie me and I'll make _your_ face a memory," he said weakly. He was dying. Dying, dying, dying. He could feel his whole body shutting down.

He was _ready_ to die.

Benito snarled and the blade was pressed just slightly harder on Corbin's temple.

"_Tell me_," he spat.

Corbin forced his eyes to stay open as he said, "Fuck you Benito. If you believe anything Tommy says you're as stupid as his is."

And with a last spurt of energy Corbin grinned.

"I'll see you in hell you worthless piece of shit."

The blade ran down from his temple to the tip of his chin. He could feel it cut through his cheek and graze his molars. And yet, even though the pain of it made his heart feel as though it were going to explode, Corbin did not scream.

'_Let me die now. … Please let me die now,' _he thought. Tears stung his eyes. '_Let me die.' _

Benito cursed in Spanish and began to pace.

"I swear I'm telling you the truth Benito," Tommy said. His eyes were red rimmed and his voice was hoarse.

Benito's eye twitched, his patience and control shattering. He snarled and fluidly retrieved his shotgun from its propped up place against the wall. It only took him a moment to aim it directly at Tommy's head.

"Did I ever tell you that I'm an excellent shot?"

And then, with an explosion that was as loud as thunder, Thomas Colden's head was torn apart, blood and gore splattering everywhere, including onto Corbin.

_**xxx**_

As Theresa's Chrysler slowed to a stop Justin could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"We're really doing this?" he asked, almost to himself. On the curb, only a few feet away, he could see various sets of people milling about. One group was staring hard at the car.

Justin swallowed and said, "You know Benito hates me, right? He'll kill me if we get caught"

Donatello looked down Third Street, ignoring Justin and his words of tentative fear. The turtle had no disguise, but it was dark. Dark enough that if he stayed to the shadows he would not be noticed. Almost unconsciously he reached back and touched his Bo Staff. He looked over to Justin.

"Keep the car running."

_**xxx**_

_**Authors Note;**_ I'm sorry its taken sooooo long to update. It's my boyfriend's fault, who even now is leaning over my shoulder and whining about how I need to come watch _Bones_ with him, lol. Yep, and now he's making Grudge noises and trying to bite me and saying random words and hoping I'll type them. He's like an affection starved puppy. Poor thing.

Lol, and he just read what I wrote and is begging like a puppy for me to erase it. Hahahahahaahahahahaha!

I love you all, I promise to update…even if I have to sedate my boyfriend. :)


	24. Chapter Twenty Four, Darkness Defeated

_**Authors Note;**_ It has taken awhile to finish (okay, more than awhile) but you are about to embark on the very last chapter of _Book One;_ _A Light in the Dark_.

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty Four: Darkness Defeated**_

* * *

Michelangelo was tired- exhausted even. He'd been alternating between a fast walk and a strained jog for over an hour now, and the weight of Ethan Shempski's dead body becoming heavier with every step he took. There was a steady ache in his shoulders and calves, and sweat was pouring from his skin in what seemed like buckets.

It was his own fault. Partly because these past few months of depression and copious amounts of cowboy killers and cheap Tanqueray hadn't really allotted him any time for working out. It was also partly because he was determined to dump the body as far away from Theresa's apartment as possible. He had no interest in seeing her connected to this pile of human waste's death. So he continued on, and the best place he could think of was the old spillway.

The spillway, located below the vicinity of Trinity Church, had been long abandoned, and was like an intersection of sorts where various water pipes would meet and pour out thousands of gallons of water into a deep ravine, that eventually took the water to… wherever it took the water. The spillway and most of its connecting pipes had been forgotten in the early thirties, when newer, more efficient irrigation had replaced it. It would take weeks, possibly months, for Ethan's body to end up wherever the flowing water took him, and longer still for anyone to discover his body. _If_ anyone ever discovered his body. There was a large possibility that Ethan's corpse would just stay in the endless channels forever.

There was a noise ahead of him, and Michelangelo paused momentarily. Relief washed over him as he realized that the thundering sound straight ahead was the sound of water crashing into the deep chasms of the spillway. He readjusted the body slung over his shoulders- hefting Ethan's form higher to slightly relive the pressure of added weight. Weight that was bearing down on him.

Not the weight of guilt. Not the weight of horror or shame or repulse at what he'd done. Just the weight of a dead body, and nothing else.

He felt nothing else.

* * *

Raphael had taken a longer route, using the sewer to go back to the law firm and clean his mess. He'd straightened up the desk, re-filed every stray file and piece of paper he'd scattered onto the floor in his haste, and he'd even quickly vacuumed Ethan's office with the Dyson he'd found in a supply closet. It was now a clean crime scene. He'd removed the rest of the pictures Ethan had kept in the secret drawer of his desk- along with the renter's agreement for the flat next to Theresa's apartment- and placed them in his belt. They'd burn, later, when he was back at the lair.

The thought of burning something made him look out one of the office windows. From it he could see the pawn shop, great billows of black smoke and orange light emitting from it. Fire trucks and police cruisers had rushed past only five minutes earlier, but Raphael could tell the shop was still alight from a block away. It would be nearly impossible to put out the gasoline soaked building. Silently he hoped that the fire did not spread to the neighboring buildings, nor that anyone was hurt while trying to contain the flames.

Then Raphael had gone to Theresa's office and checked in on Thor. The dog lifted his head, whimpered, and then laid his head back down in what seemed to Raphael a pitiful manner. He felt a wave of sympathy towards the dog, made greater when he noticed that there was a growing pool of blood around the St. Bernard's body. Raphael grimaced, he'd noticed a very small amount of blood when he first found the dog, but now realized that the black fur on Thor's chest had hidden the appearance of the sticky red substance. Seeing it now made Raphael's heart race. What if the dog was more injured than he originally thought?

Not for the first time this night, Raphael was glad that Ethan Shempski was dead.

Taking Theresa's suit jacket from her closet (she kept it at her office for emergencies and he wondered briefly how much the brand name _Nanette Lepore_ had cost her) Raphael wound the grey cloth around his fist and sat on the floor next to Thor. Gently, he applied pressure to the wound, the jackets material soaking copious amounts of blood quickly. Thor wined piteously, and Raphael caught himself making sympathetic shushing noises.

_Everything's going to be okay_, he thought to himself. _It has to be. _

Then he leaned back on Theresa's desk, the great dogs head lay in his lap, and waited in the dark office for Justin and Donatello.

* * *

Donatello was doing a fast paced version of a jog, gripping his Bo Staff and clinging to the shadows, wondering which building Corbin and Tommy might be in. There were various abandoned warehouses and decrepit looking homes that could have occupied the duo, and the olive skinned turtle could not manage to think of which of these they could possibly be in, short of searching each and every one. He was saved from that task, however, when he noticed a young man who was trying and failing miserably to stand guard at the entrance door of an old one story warehouse. All of its high windows had been blacked out, but if Donatello peered hard enough he could see a wisp of light from under the heavy door that was pooling around the lookouts feet.

As if to erase any doubt he may have had, the young man raised his hand at a passerby in a short waive. There, plain as if it had been the middle of the day, was a black cross tattooed on it.

Donatello set his jaw, resolved. Scaling the concrete wall was easy, and in no time Donny had made his way to the roof of the building. Entry, unfortunately, proved to be trickier. The windows had been soldered shut, and unless he wanted to make his appearance know- breaking the glass was not an option. If he had been able to see into the warehouse he'd have probably acted more quickly, but unfortunately the windows had been blacked out expertly- more than likely with numerous cans of black spray paint and cardboard. Donny felt the rise of a sudden panic. How was he supposed to do this? His brothers were not there with him, there was no back up, no safety net.

He was alone.

And with that thought Donatello calmed. He'd been alone since the moment Mikey had turned up 6 months ago, covered in what looked like fake blood; there had been so much of it….

_(…flashback…)_

_He was blood soaked. _

_His nunchucks, sheathed at his belt, dripped pools of blood where he stood. His hand and feet, and splatters and smears all across his thighs and chest, were a deep crimson. And his face. Flicks of blood were on his face, and even scattered over his orange bandanna. _

_Like he had bathed in blood._

_But through all the carnage that covered Michelangelo, it was easy to observe that very little, if any at all, came from his own wounds. The blood was an enemy's, and the enemy was obviously dead. _

_Michelangelo looked like a warrior. He looked like a killer._

_He did not look like Michelangelo…_

"_What did you do?" Leonardo repeated a second time, his voice not as loud but still raised and demanding, and in it there was a quavering and unmistakable panic. A fear._

_Michelangelo's eyes were glazed and unfocused, but he seemed to hear the question posed, almost as though it was called through a faraway tunnel. _

"_I destroyed him," he said quietly, taking a step forward to his brothers, all who were gazing at him in wide eyed alarm. _

"_And it's not enough," he muttered as an afterthought, and it was clear to the brothers that whatever had happened, Mikey was undoubtedly in shock. He had a distinctly unhinged look to him, and when he had spoken, it had been in a clam and pondering voice. As though there were nothing wrong with coming home soaked in another person's blood._

_So much blood..._

_Next to him Leo could hear the strangled voice of Donatello, hoarse and worried._

"_Mikey… What happened?" _

_Donny had been so silent, so shocked at the sight of his brother, that he'd not been able to speak until that moment. But he __**knew**__. As soon as he'd seen him, he knew. Jade was supposed to have called him ages ago, to tell him how it went, and she had not. Michelangelo turning up covered in blood was not a good sign. But that hope, that screaming plea that he was wrong about the situation, made him pose the question. Besides, he _had_ to know. _

"_Mike," Donatello repeated, "What happened?" _

_Michelangelo's eyes were completely unfocused when he turned his attention to Donny. _

"_Dead," he said simply. "She's dead. She…" He seemed to come slowly to himself at this proclamation. His eyes focused, and he looked at his hands, like red gloves, as though he were seeing them for the first time. Tears and pain filled his eyes as he looked back at his brothers. The shock was turning into heartbreak and realization all in the blink of an eye. "Jade's dead," he choked. _

_At this, Michelangelo crumpled to his knees. Donny began to shake. He tried to focus on breathing. Next to him Leonardo took a sharp breath and Raphael tensed. _

_Mikey was sobbing. "She'd dead. He….he raped her. Her throat…" he was staring at his blood soaked hands. "It was slit… and I tried… I tried to stop the blood… but she was choking… and then… and then…" _

_He was in hysterics. The three brothers stood there, rooted by their own sudden shock. _

"_She wouldn't stop bleeding," he cried. _

_Donatello's heart stopped beating. It would never beat the same way again after that. Michelangelo had been a hysteric mess the rest of the night. Nothing he'd said had made sense, even when Splinter had woken and made his way to his youngest son, trying to sooth him. He'd just kept sobbing uncontrollably; repeating over and over that Jade was dead. _

_Dead. _

_Eventually Amy had come. She's injected him with medication and he'd slumped into unconsciousness. The news had come on. Donny had seen Parker McCoy's young and handsome face staring back at him. _

_He felt as dead as the man on TV._

_(… end flashback…)_

He could do this. Donatello could do this. He'd been alone since the moment he found out Jade was gone. And with that thought pushing him along, Donatello went to break the roofs glass, raising his Bo Staff high. He was stopped short, however, by a subdued discussion that alerted him to what was going on below. The door to the warehouse opened on the street beneath him, and Donatello heard hushed voices, soft enough he had to strain to hear them.

"_Did you hear that? Benito wants to know…"_

Donny's eyes narrowed and he inched to the edge of the roof to better listen.

"_Hear what?"_ the lookout asked.

"_Benito shot one'a those white boys… you didn't hear it?" _

Donatello felt his blood grow cold, and without really thinking of how her brother's death might affect Theresa, he thought, _please not Corbin_.

"_I didn't hear shit man,"_ the lookout said. _"Ain't this building sound proofed?" _

"_Yeah man, but close range shot gun is a loud fuckin' thing. Charlie's ears are bleedin and Benito's in there holdin' his head. He said he wants to make sure you didn't hear nothin' before he shoots the other guy."_

Donatello had heard enough. He dropped the 15 feet from the roof to the sidewalk without so much as a sound. Stealthily, quickly, he came to stand behind the lookout, and without so much as a moment's hesitation the Bo Staff was connecting with the man's skull, a resounding crack issuing as the two connected. As the South Sider crumpled to the ground, Donatello gave the other thug no time to react. With a sweeping motion he'd been knocked off his feet, and the Bo staff did its job properly as it once more connected with its victim- this time squarely between the eyes.

Donatello entered the warehouse, shutting the heavy metal door firmly behind him. On either side of him were boxes and crates stacked higher than he was tall, almost to the ceiling. Ahead of him there was an empty aisle and then more boxes. He padded forward quickly, not stopping to formulate a plan, not pausing to think his way around a strategy. It was Raphael's way tonight. For so long he'd spent his time thinking out every next move, planning every minute detail, and this once he knew it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Around the corner was a group of people. Donatello had no idea what Benito Escobar looked like, but he assumed that the man sitting on an upturned crate with his head in his palms, shot gun laid over his lap, was the man in question. In his peripheral Donatello saw bodies, hanging by their wrists by chains from the ceiling, grotesquely swinging as unused marionettes might, their feet barely touched the ground. One of them was headless, and the other would have been unrecognizable if not for the bright peaking of bleached blonde hair amidst all the blood. Donatello could not tell if Corbin was breathing and he felt his anger spike.

No one even glanced at him as he approached, his footfalls making no noise whatsoever, and when one of the thugs finally did notice, he was mortified beyond words.

Donatello was not thinking. For once in his life, he let what would happen, happen. Every move every action, was impulse. And though it was foreign it was also liberating. He was not in his right mind, and later he knew that he must certainly have a death wish, but for now it was only raw anger and recklessness that pushed him along.

It was too late for the group of South Siders once the turtle had reached them. Too late for any of them to react, too late for any of them to defend themselves or even think about fleeing. Donatello couldn't know that they were hindered by surprise, an inability to hear caused by the deafening shotgun blast, and with the overwhelming amount of new recruits in the building they were grossly inexperienced. These factors were all used to his advantage. His Bo Staff at the ready, Donny swung at the nearest recruit, easily knocking the young man's gun from his hands and connecting the end of the staff with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. All were alert at once, moving, drawing weapons, and though Donatello wasn't by any means the best fighter out of his brothers, his skill surpassed all of the South Siders combined.

A past girlfriend who had not been Jade had once told Donatello that to watch him (or any of his brothers for that matter) fluidly execute each sophisticated move of Ninjitsu was to watch Art in motion. This was truth. Donny was a force, an unstoppable disaster that wrecked and maimed all in its path. The recruits were quickly disarmed and down, the only shot fired being clumsy and easily avoided. Eventually only the small moans, or in most cases the silence and blood flow, surrounded Donatello on the ground, spread around his feet like perverse gifts around a tree.

The only man left standing, directly facing Donny, was Benito Escobar.

* * *

Michelangelo watched the body of Ethan Shempski falling…

…falling…

…

Gone and crushed in the crashing of water.

He felt nothing.

* * *

Leonardo swerved Raphael's bike through traffic, uncaring of the attention he was drawing with this reckless behavior. Corbin was in trouble. He knew it with every fiber in his being. And though he'd been hesitant to admit it to Don or Raph or even Theresa, he could now admit it to himself. Corbin was his friend. He was his family. Just as April (god he missed her) was his sister, and Casey was his brother, and Splinter his Father, so too was Corbin now enfolded into the odd and blended group of people he considered as close as blood.

And he'd let him go off on his own.

Leo cursed, taking the turn onto Ann St. almost too sharply, the bike wobbling as it righted itself. He'd let Corbin go on a rescue mission on his own. Let him follow that damn screw up Tommy into dangerous territory. And now…?

"If you're dead, I'll kill you Corbin," Leonardo muttered to himself. He hoped he'd taught him enough to stay alive. He hoped Corbin had been smart enough to turn tail and run. He hoped he was overreacting.

But in his heart, Leo knew it wasn't so. Something was wrong, and when he screeched the bike to a halt behind Theresa's battered car and saw that Justin Hunt was out if it, eyeing a warehouse just down the block with growing concern, Leo knew where he needed to go. Justin turned towards him and opened his mouth to say something- gesturing towards the warehouse, but Leo ignored the man, revving the bike and speeding past him and up the street- stopping and letting the bike drop carelessly to the ground when he reached the decrepit building a moment later. He ran into the one story warehouse, pausing only for a moment to toss the helmet he'd been wearing next to the fallen bike. But he moved quickly after that, not stopping even for a second when he noticed the two young thugs lying unconscious in front of the buildings steel door. Instead he ignored them and pushed forward, his hands already holding his Katana's in a firm and ready grip.

When Leonardo rounded the corner the sight that greeted him made his stomach flip nauseatingly. Dangling to his left was a limp and bloodied Corbin and a headless man that had to be Tommy. Directly in front of him, scuffling some feet away on the dirty tiled floor was Donatello and the biggest man he'd seen since Hun (the leader of the infamous Purple Dragons) had died. They were struggling each to gain the upper hand, the man (who was the color of caramel and whose hair was a true black that was almost blue) was trying to reach a shotgun that was just out of his grasp, cursing at Donatello, who was holding him as tightly as he could around the waist- his Bo Staff nowhere to be seen.

A snatch of memory came to Leo then, of Theresa mentioning that Benito Escobar had been a boxer. It made sense if this man _was_ Benito Escobar, why Donny was having such a hard time subduing him. It was as this thought came to him that Benito (who had been on his stomach) maneuvered enough to catch Donatello with an elbow to the eye. Donny jerked and instantly his grip loosened.

"Don!" Leo head himself yelling his brother's name and advancing. It was in slow motion that he saw many things in succession. Benito finally gripping the shotgun- which had its barrel sawed short. Donatello trying in vain to grab at the man, realization of what was about to happen dawning in his swelling eyes as Benito turned and began to cock the gun.

That was as far as he got, however. Suddenly Benito Escobar was bleeding at the neck, and a choking noise was emitting from deep in his throat. He dropped the weapon, favoring to use his hands to clutch at the ruined mess Leo's blades had made of the once unspoiled flesh. As his lungs filled with blood, his gasping breaths becoming gurgles and coughs, Leonardo pulled his brother to his feet.

Benito Escobar was ignored in death as the two embraced.

* * *

It was Michelangelo who fetched Raphael from the Law Office, and Michelangelo who helped him carry Thor down into the sewer. The youngest brother had explained to Raphael that Justin and Donatello had gone to rescue Corbin and Tommy, and that Leo, becoming worried, had gone as well. Apparently Leo had caught Mikey as he was about to enter the lair and asked him to go and help Raphael bring Thor through the sewer. Michelangelo hadn't been able to vocalize an agreement because Leo was gone in the blink of an eye, running full force to the garage top side.

And so Mikey had gone, as Leo had instructed, ignoring his aches and pains, ignoring the fatigue that was threatening to overtake him, and opted instead to carry the massive canine that was teetering on the cusp of 200 lbs., fireman style. The dog, though wrapped in cloth at his chest, was bleeding on Mikey shoulders, whimpering in pain. Raphael had carried Thor the first half of the trek to the lair, but Michelangelo had insisted they switch. It was then, to Mike's chagrin, that Raphael noticed he was also wounded.

"Mike! You're bleeding!" He'd gestured to Michelangelo's right arm, which had a small stream of blood coming from a gash that had been made when he'd jumped through the window and into the pawn shop.

"Oh… I pulled out the glass… it just needs cleaned." Raphael had made a face, but he'd thankfully dropped it.

They reached the lair without issue, and the door hadn't even finished closing before Raphael sprinted to his respective section of the subway train, forgetting entirely of Thor's wellbeing with Theresa in such close proximity. Michelangelo could see the sliding door open and Amy milling about inside. He laid the large dog on the ground gently and patted his head before following his brother. Theresa was lying there in his bed, her breathing even and her face- though dirty and tear streaked- calm.

"I'm going to have to cut her hair, to get the rest of the duct tape out of it," Amy was telling Raphael, who had knelt and taken Theresa's unwounded hand into his own. There was a thick wrapping of medical gauze around the wrist she'd slipped through the handcuffs.

Michelangelo cleared his throat, and Amy looked to him. "The dog is out there, if you can look at him now."

Amy nodded, squeezing his arm as she passed. But Michelangelo lingered behind, watching Raphael as he pressed his forehead into Theresa's palm, his eyes closing in what looked like pain.

He'd gone to exit, but paused when he heard his brother say, "I'm sorry, Mike."

"… For what?"

Raphael lifted his head to look at his youngest brother. "… For everything?" he responded. "For Jade? … For never really understanding until tonight what you… and Don, have gone through."

Michelangelo tried very hard not to flinch at the name of his brother and the shared grief, and instead set his jaw.

"If you're sorry Raph, just make sure not to hurt her… That'd be payment enough."

It was then that Theresa sighed, and her eyes fluttered open. Raphael had hovered over her, touching her face gently, laying soft kisses on her hand, and she'd smiled and kissed him back, telling him she loved him, telling him she was fine. And then she looked to Michelangelo, and asked to speak with him.

"Alone," she requested. And Raphael looked worried and stressed, unwanting to leave her side.

But he had, a last weary glance cast her way as he promised to check on Thor and slid the door to his room closed.

Michelangelo sat on the bed, taking up her hand that Raphael had held and mimicking his actions, holding it tightly to his cheek.

"You saved me," Theresa said hoarsely, pulling him to her and hugging him firmly. Mike helped her into a sitting position and hugged her back.

"_You love her,"_ Raphael has accused.

And his response…. His response had been a lie.

"_It's not the way you think,"_ he'd said. _"I don't need her beside me like you do. She's just… she's my friend." _

God, had he lied.

"Theresa…" he hesitated, pulled away from her, and she looked inquisitive up at him.

"Theresa… I… Thank you."

Her eyes questioned him, and Michelangelo responded. "I think… I think I can move on now. Because of you."

"Why?"

Mikey squeezed her hand. "Because… you make me feel again. It doesn't feel dead when you're around. And if I can feel that… for you… I can feel it again for someone else. Jade doesn't have to be the end."

Theresa looked instantly weary. "… Mike-"

"No, no, I know. I wouldn't… I wouldn't want you to feel the same. Raph and you… you guys belong with each other. But I do… I love-"

"Don't."

Michelangelo grinned at her, and the spark in his blue eyes lit. "Oh, it's too late for that, I think. I love you. I'll be here, as a friend and a brother. … But I love you."

Theresa was instantly swimming with tears. "Don't do that Mike. Please don't. You know I can't, that I don't-"

"Hush," Michelangelo said to her firmly. "I don't _want_ you to feel the same way."

He stood, setting her hand in her lap. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her cheek. He'd hesitated a moment so near her, and then pulled away. "It's a good thing to love you, don't ruin it. It makes me feel like things are going to be okay."

He exited the compartment then, without giving her time to respond, or to see his smile drop from his face. As he walked to the living room, Raphael approached him. Mikey caught his upper arm and pulled him close. "Do what I said and take care of her. Otherwise you're no brother of mine."

Raphael had tensed in that moment, his eyes narrowing at Michelangelo in suspicion and indignant anger.

"Mike. Talk to me like that again and you'll get a fuckin' black eye."

Michelangelo laughed, and Raphael smirked, relaxing. Mike left his brother then, who watched him as he walked to the couch and collapsed on it before leaving to take up roost next to Theresa. If she told him what he'd said, the black eye wouldn't be all he got. But Michelangelo didn't think she would. He grabbed up a small couch pillow and ragged afghan. It was past now. Loving her was incidental in the grand scheme of things, really. He'd seen her safe, and happy and well. He'd done enough.

And with that, for the first time in a long time, Michelangelo slept deeply and dreamlessly.

* * *

Theresa pushed away the proclamation made by Michelangelo to the very back of her mind- almost convincing herself it had not happened. And by the time Raphael re-entered the room she'd all but convinced herself it had been a hallucination.

She loved Raphael. She loved him more than she'd ever thought she could love another person. Next to him she would face happiness and tragedy, torment and joy. And he would be there. She _knew_ he would. There was no more worry, no more hesitance. He was there.

As he took her hand she smiled, unknowing yet of her brother and Corbin, unknowing that her life had been altered more than just by Ethan Shempski. She knew in that moment she was loved.

And it was enough.

* * *

_**Authors Note;**_ All you have left after this is the Epilogue, and I for one am both sad and ecstatic to see this work of fiction come to an end. The end of this also means a progression, seeing as there will be a second story that follows this one, where we will delve into the heartache and recovery of Michelangelo, which will be titled _Book Two; Back From the Dead._ Though, and I know some will hate to hear this, we'll be lucky if I get around to it. As of now, I do have every intention of writing the second installment.

Thank you all so much. If I go back to the first chapters of this, I feel ashamed to say I wrote them. I do feel, however, that the skill has grown. I hope you've all enjoyed this. Expect the Epilogue by this weekend, and until then enjoy your holiday.


	25. Chapter 25, Epilogue New Beginnings

_**Book One; A Light in the Dark**_

_**Epilogue; New Beginnings**_

* * *

The grave yard was quite as Theresa Colden walked up the slopping hill, past the marble grey headstones to the place where her brother lay. Her grey scarf whipped in the harsh wind, and beyond her she could hear the blaring of car horns and the tinkling of bells. Months, over two, had gone by since the night Theresa had been saved from the clutches of Ethan Shempski- only to learn that her brother had died at the hands of Benito Escobar. The memories, though laced with a few happy moments, were too painful to relive for long. But with the grave in front of her, plotting out her brothers short life in glaring mockery, she could not help but let her mind stray to that awful day.

She'd been deliriously happy, saved from Ethan (though the memory was harrowing) and held tightly by Raphael. Raphael ,who was telling her he loved her. Raphael, who was telling her he'd do anything for her, go anywhere with her. That he was hers, and he'd spent the rest of his life making up for the mistakes he'd made- as long as she'd spend it with him.

And then Leo, followed hesitantly by Don, had entered the room. Raphael had told her what they were off doing, retriving her brother and Corbin. She hadn't thought much of it then, but it had taken one look into Leonardo's remorseful eyes to know what had happened.

"…No. Leo, no." Her hands were shaking.

Leo stared at her for a beat and shook his head. Theresa could feel the tears welling, and she remembered trying to stand, only to be stopped by Raphael's strong hand holding her back.

"No… Leo…. Leo, not Tommy."

Leo, of course, did not bear good news. "…I'm sorry Theresa. Really, I'm sorry-"

Her wail had cut him off. The pain, worse than any of the injuries obtained by force earlier in the night, shocked through her like a knife. She clutched at her chest, shaking her head and crying over and over, "No… No, no, no."

Raphael held her close, rocking her, Leo apologized numerous times, and Michelangelo- awakened by her cries- rushed into the room from his dead sleep, keeling next to the bed and holding her shoulder.

The rest was a blur. Leo explained what had happened as best he could, explained how Donatello had entered the warehouse to find Tommy already dead, and Corbin near it. How Leo had come to his rescue just in time, and how Benito Escobar was currently growing cold in the abandoned warehouse on Third and St. Claire. His death had done so very little to warm Theresa's heart. It did not bring back her brother.

Leonardo and Donatello had taken Corbin down from his shackles and called 911, making an anonymous plea of distress. They had waited in the shadows until the ambulance had come, and then had slipped away with Justin Hunt, who they had dropped off back at the law office- left to pick up any loose ends and try to wrap his head around the events of the night.

Many things had happened after that. She'd gone to stay with Amy, providing not only and alibi, but constant medical attention and a reason to explain why she was not in her apartment when the pawn shop had caught fire. Amy had done an alright job at cutting the duct tape out of her hair, having to shorten it to a chin length bob. She'd worn long sleeves and liberal amounts of foundation, so that when the police officers had finally tracked her down at Amy's a day later, she'd looked a semblance of herself. And when they told her that her brother was dead, the cries of anguish were not feigned.

Tommy was buried in the fall, Theresa holding her father's hand as he cried for the first time she ever recalled, her mother a hollow and shocked shell beside him. The crisp October air- normally a welcomed by Theresa- would be marred for years as it carried the memory of her brother. And when Halloween arrived Theresa cried with fresh waves of pain.

In her Twenty-Six years, it was the first birthday that he'd ever missed.

Thomas Colden had been a mediocre Brother at best, but that had not lessened her love, nor her hurt at his passing.

Corbin, even all these months later, was still in the hospital- though- no longer was he in intensive care. It had been so touch and go for so long that there had been a time when Amy had come to the lair and told them to prepare themselves for the worst. But Corbin had somehow pulled through. However, with the granting of life there also had come a price. The man was barely recognizable in appearance. While the left side of his face held the same handsome features, it was overshadowed by the fact that his right side was a mangled mess. The blade Benito had ran from temple to chin down Corbin's face had paralyzed it permanently. When he smiled, only the left side of his face reacted. His lips would turn, his eye would crinkle and his cheek would dimple. But only on his left side. The rest was dead. His lips downcast and unmoving, his cheeks slack, his right eye blurred in vision and drooping slightly. All of this was punctuated with the deeply set scarring of where the knife had made it journey down Corbin's face.

It had horrified Theresa to see the man, though she'd hidden it well. He'd been told he'd need to walk with a cane, that he'd have a constant limp. He'd broken a number of ribs, his shoulder had been pulled out of its socket and the collar bone had been broken. He'd had a concussion and lacerations (he'd joked that he looked like Frankenstein's Monster- with so many stitches) and bruising was found all over his body. His kidneys had suffered from the continuous blows to it, and a knee cap had been all but shattered.

But he was alive, and happy to be so. Though he still, these months later, refused to look into a mirror.

Ethan Shempski remained a mystery to everyone but herself, the turtles, Corbin and Justin Hunt. Ethan's car had turned up in the river weeks later, but not his body. The entire law office had been questioned, including Theresa, but no detective or beat cop had ever hinted of suspecting her in any way to his disappearance, and Theresa found herself less and less worried about it. His case had been cold and untouched for weeks now. No one missed the man, and certainly no one missed the monster in him either.

Meeting Splinter had been a happy highlight in the sad months. He seemed so fail and worn, but he was a wealth of genuine happiness and comfort. He had provided her with welcoming arms, kind words, and a ready shoulder to cry on and ear to lend. She'd spent hours with him, both with and without Raphael. He listened to her woes, mostly concerning Tommy, and he'd relived moments in Raphael's past- telling her more of his childhood antics. Some of the stories had caused Raphael to turn a shade of red she hadn't though would be possible with his complexion.

Theresa learned that Splinter had been practically bed ridden for months now, plagued with a fever he couldn't seem to shake, and arthritis that had crippled his knees.

And that's when she'd added him into her plan for the future. She had spoken with him a couple of times already, asking his opinion and thoughts on the idea, and his response was the same. _"If Leonardo will agree, so will I." _

Theresa sighed and pushed these thoughts aside. They'd be decided soon enough. She touched the headstone with gloved fingers. A light dusting of snow had begun to fall, and Theresa could see her own breath as she exhaled.

Christmas. It was three days until Christmas.

This threatened to break her resolve not to cry. She held it together, though she'd needed to take several deep breaths to calm herself. She hadn't cried in weeks and something inside her willed her to keep it that way- at least for a while.

She leaned down and arraigned the bouquet of roses and poinsettias she'd brought for the grave. Then, with another sigh and a murmured "I love you," she was gone, headed back to her car (a new but gently used Lexus RX SUV) where Raphael waited for her.

"You alright?"

Theresa shrugged. "I guess, Raph."

Raphael gave her a sad smile, squeezed her knee, and pulled away from the graveyard. Theresa took his hand and let herself drift into an exhausted slumber, her head resting on his shoulder as he navigated the streets of Manhattan.

* * *

Michelangelo felt that so much had happened as of late, it was enough to make his head spin. The death of Jade and betrayal of his brother had been enough to keep him on his toes for quite a long time. And then there had come Theresa and her own plight, mixed with the new face of Corbin, the death of Tommy and Benito, and his own murdering of Ethan Shempski. He was sure he was due for a long period of his life to be stress free, and drama free as well. Say, maybe, the rest of his life.

But Raphael was leaving the lair. And so, apparently, was Splinter. Drama free was not in the cards for Michelangelo.

"Repeat yourself," Leonardo was saying, his hands gripping the kitchen table so tightly Mikey thought the wood may crack under his grip.

"Theresa bought April's farmhouse. … I'm going with her Leo… And I think Splinter should come too."

All the eyes of his brothers were on Raphael, either hostile or confused. Theresa sat next to Raph, her eyes carefully avoiding anyone else's. Michelangelo knew her hand was clutching Raphael's under the table, and he ignored the stab of pain that ran through him at the thought. He thought she looked pale and sad, but better- markedly better- than she had in the last few months. As much as he'd disliked Tommy, Michelangelo knew his death had driven a void into Theresa's heart.

"… Leaving? …Take Splinter. …Raph… What are you talking about? You can't leave."

Leo had gone from looking angry, to looking hurt, and Mikey visibly flinched at the sight. Leo was strong. He was the leader. Leo was never supposed to look like he did now.

"Leo… I'm not leaving you guys behind… not like April did. It's just a half hour or so away-"

Theresa's raised brow and look that clearly said, "_Oh please_," made Raphael amend, "Ugh, alright, so it's more like an hour. Point is, it ain't like I'm never gonna be here again. We'll both travel here, and you guys can come all the time. Once a week for each of us at least. But… we're leaving, nothin' changes that. And… Leo, I think you should consider lettin' Splinter come."

Leo, still working through what Mikey was sure he felt was a slap in the face, scowled at Raphael. "Why?" he demanded, his jaw working in what had now made its way to anger.

Raphael took a deep breath, and Michelangelo knew he was counting to ten, trying to hold back his famous temper. It almost made him smile, knowing his brother was doing this for the benefit of Theresa.

"Cause, Leo, he's sick. He's had pneumonia twice now, and the arthritis is spreading fast. The heat here hardly ever works, the air is stuffy, an' the water is grime. …Leo, you know he'd do better at the farm. He'd have his own area set up, and you know I'd take care of him."

Leonardo looked lost, the anger fading back to the hurt look Mikey so hated. "But Amy… Amy looks after him. Amy gets his medicine…"

Even to Michelangelo this sounded like grasping.

Raphael looked like they had come to the part he'd dreaded saying the most. "Leo… I've talked to Amy. She knows she can come any time, and me too. I'll still get him all his medicine." And then, as if to add salt to the wound, Raphael said, his voice full of compassion and understanding, "Leo… you know I'd take care of Dad."

Leonardo looked utterly beat down, his eyes wild with desperation and worry, trying desperately to think of a way to grab the strings of logic that were slipping through his fingers. "But… _I_ take care of him… I-"

He went to continue, but Donatello cut him off. "Leo, no one is saying you're doing a bad job, but maybe we should think about this. Studies have shown that rural living, like what the farm provides, keeps the ill healthier. Plus, Raphael is right. This is no place to try and recover. No matter what you do, it's not going to help when you're down here."

As if to punctuate this point, there was a rattle and screech right before the heat abruptly stopped working. Donny raised his eyeridge at Leo as if to say, "_see_." And then he was up and off to fix the ancient and decrepit heating system.

Michelangelo decided then to put in his two cents. "Leo, as much as I hate to agree with _him_," Mikey nodded towards the retreating Donatello, "Splinter isn't getting' any better down here. And… Leo… everyone moves out. You can't expect them to live like this forever." He gestured abound the lair to accentuate what he'd said. "This is what starting a life is, bro. Not stayin' in the sewer forever."

There was quite that followed this, Theresa still looking at her lap, worrying her bottom lip as it stretched.

Finally Leonardo stood. "… I'll think about it. I need to talk to Sensei."

He left then, his shoulders stiff with tension as he walked away and disappeared into Splinter's room.

"That went well, yeah?" Michelangelo asked, grinning at the two and tipping back his chair. Theresa finally looked over to him, her short hair (now shoulder length and framing her face) suiting her just as well as her long locks had.

"Oh hush you," she said, scowling at him. But her lips twitched as she said it, and Mikey was happy to see her joke with him after so much misery.

Raphael groaned and laid his head on the table. "I hate this. I hate hurtin' Leo like that."

This admission was so out of character that Mike sat upright, the smile clearing from his face.

"Dude," he began, "You're right. Sensei shouldn't be here. … He'll see. And we know you'll come visit. … I'm gonna miss you two."

Mikey smacked his brother's arm in a gruff show of affection, and Raphael lifted his head and smirked.

"Yeah, Theresa wants to tell _you_ somthin' too."

Mikey raised an eye ridge and looked to his brothers' girlfriend (and it helped to keep thinking of her that way). "Oh?"

Theresa threw a sidelong glance at Raphael before saying, "Mike… I think… Well, I mean, I want you to move into my apartment. … If you want."

There was silence that followed before Michelangelo finally broke it. "…_What_?"

Theresa laughed nervously. "You can pay me rent when you can. I'll take care of getting everything to the landlord. But I wanted to keep it anyway, for when we visit. …And, I think maybe you'd like being away from here."

Raphael, though he seemed reluctant to encourage her, added, "As much as Leo would hate it right now, she's not gonna let you say no. She knows you hate it down here bro. And Mike… I mean, she really will just be paying for an empty apartment, even if you don't live there. You might as well…" He left the last bit hanging in the air, shrugging his shoulders.

Mikey's head swirled. Leave? He could leave?

"I don't know Theresa-"

He was cut off by her sliding a set of keys to him. "It's yours Mike," she said. "I'll be moved out in a week. Come whenever you want. … Just promise me you'll at least think about it."

Michelangelo stared at the silver set of keys in front of him. Freedom was in his reach.

"I'll do it," he heard himself rasp, touching the keys lightly before grapping them into his palm. He looked up to Theresa. "I'll pay you. I _promise_ I'll figure out a way to pay you."

Theresa smiled and stood, walking around the table, and Michelangelo stood as well and pulled her into his arms.

"Thanks, kid," he said softly, holding her tightly, the keys clutched so tightly that he was leaving an indentation in the palm of his hand.

"I know you need this," she said, pulling back. "Consider it a Christmas gift. … Along with what I actually got you."

"Oooh, wha'd ya get me?" Mikey waggled his brows, and Theresa snorted and shook her head.

"We'll leave before you tell Leo," Raphael said, standing and taking Theresa's hand. "Maybe wait a day or two before you tell him?"

Mikey laughed, and it was full of happiness and humor. "Will do," he replied, and he smiled as they retreated.

It was then, as the door shut behind them, that Michelangelo realized he could start living.

That he could breath.

* * *

_**The End of Book One; A Light in the Dark**_

* * *

**Authors Note;** Dear readers, I thank you. Errors to be fixed later. Look for Book Two to come soon(ish). Until then, reviews are loved.

_-Gin_


End file.
